


Swear To My Bones

by izarsa



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Character Study, Drama, F/M, Family, Future, Gen, Marriage, Post-Time Skip, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Burn, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izarsa/pseuds/izarsa
Summary: Akira and the rest of the Ex-Phantom Thieves struggle to find meaning in their adult lives fifteen years after the events of the game.





	1. Chapter I

 

_Swear To My Bones_

 

 

_Cover Art by Ana Haynes_

_@aranciart on Twitter and Tumblr_

 

_Chapter I_

* * *

 

A labyrinth of twisting stone stretched ahead of me to infinity as red and black rolling haze churned beneath my feet. To my left stood Ryuji, his eyes locked into focus, his face young and determined; and to my right crouched Morgana, his sword in his hand and his slingshot at his side. The rest of the team held steady behind me, equally poised, a collage of colorful eyes that all shared the same lightning.

Before us crept an ocean of patrolling Shadows, twisted and lethargic in their movements. While I was tired, and though my muscles ached, my spirit did not waver. That familiar flame blazed within my chest.

With a pounce I wrangled one of those dark monoliths, my fingers finding the corners of its mask and digging under it, pulling with all my might. It came off in a stringy mess of black as the Shadow collapsed into itself. In an instant, a Chimera leapt from that bubbling carcass, roaring with guttural bloodlust, eyes locked on me, claws outstretched and reaching.

I brought my hand to my face and from that burning in my chest came blue flames to my fingertips. I called for Arsene and he found me, guiding my hand, shattering the invisible chains that held still my heart, and in that moment I was self-assured and uninhibited and free.

He swooped to meet the Chimera mid-leap, and the scream of battle that ensued pulled me back into the world.

 

* * *

 

I woke slowly, and let my eyes adjust. In the grey light of morning that bled in from the closed curtains, I watched Haru's ribs slowly rise and fall with the metronome rhythm of deep sleep. She clutched the covers close, her fluffy hair buried in the pillow.

I turned and looked up at the ceiling. The adrenaline I'd felt coursing through my veins mere seconds ago had vanished without taper- now I felt only the soft sheets on my skin and the cool air conditioning in my lungs. The morning was silent, like cotton falling on snow.

I got out of bed slowly, so as not to disturb her, and made my way to the kitchen. I took a mug and a bag of my favorite blend from the cupboard, which I closed silently, before grinding the beans and setting the carafe to boil. Once everything was set, I turned to look out the window as the coffee brewed. Tokyo greeted me, still as stone, shrouded in morning mist.

It had been fifteen years since I'd been to the Metaverse, but the heavy air rife with crackling energy that had filled my dream felt vivid enough to make up for my absence. There had been a time when that realm felt like a twisted haven of sorts from the unjust world that it underlaid, but that time felt almost foreign now- something about it intangible, unreal, irrelevant. Dormant or fleeting, I couldn’t tell.

When the coffee was done, I turned and poured myself a cup. The steam billowed up from the mug like a ghost, arms reaching and spreading out into the morning air, finally released. I took a sip and heard Haru stir in bed the next room over, a few gentle creaks punctuating the silence. Before long, she appeared in the doorway, eyes half shut with sleep and soft voice singing a groggy “Good morning, you’re up early.”

“I had a weird dream,” I replied as I grabbed a second mug from the cupboard and started pouring her a cup.

“A dream?” she asked hazily. “What about?”

A moment of silence passed as I filled her mug to the brim and mixed in a single packet of sugar.

“We were in Mementos.”

She took it from me carefully and savored her first sip. “I’ve had dreams like that as well. It’s always exciting.”

We made our way over to the table. She always sat facing the window and I always sat with my back towards it- one of those subconscious habits people tend to adopt, I suppose. Her hair was ruffled from her sleep, and her brown eyes in the light revealed some intangible tiredness. The face before me was deeply familiar. Each eyelash was one I’d studied before.

We drank our coffee wordlessly, until I broke the silence. “You know who else was there? In the dream?”

A little anticipation tugged at the corners of her lips. “Who?”

“Morgana- but in his real form.”

She grinned and brushed her hair behind her ears. “I’d almost forgotten what he used to look like. I wish we’d kept pictures.”

“He had on that little mask. And he had his sword at the ready.”

She looked down, pondering something. I thought about how she used to look, too- I remembered so clearly her hat with the feather.

“Did you ever get the flour we needed?” she asked.

I nodded. “Mhm. I picked it up a few days ago.”

“Okay, that’s really great. I was worried we might run out today.”

We sipped our coffee quietly as the faintest sounds of a summer shower tapped on the window.

I stood up and brushed my hand against her hair as I made my way to the sink to put away my mug. “I’m gonna go check on Kunikazu.”

She watched me leave the room with a slow kindling in her eyes.

* * *

Kunikazu was asleep in his bed, Morgana curled up by his feet. I turned on the bedroom light and they groaned in unison.

“Akira… please… too early…” Morgana croaked, covering his eyes with his paws. My son had a similar reaction- turning himself over and slamming the pillow on his head.

“Come on, both of you. We’re helping mom with the cafe today.”

Another synchronized groan.

“I’ll make breakfast.”

They only stirred at first- but it wasn’t long before Kunikazu groggily lifted the covers and his adjusting eyes found me.

“Can we have omelettes?” he asked eagerly.

“Mmhmm.”

Kunikazu was our only child- if we weren’t counting Morgana. He had dark hair like mine, with a hint of Haru’s curl, and he’d turned eight years old just a few months ago. He was a kid with a razor sharp wit and an earnest, gentle heart. He was, of course, the light of my life.

“Fish omelettes,” suggested Morgana, now wide awake.

Kunikazu raised his brow at the cat. “There’s no such thing as a fish omelette.”

I told him to brush his teeth and get ready for the day, and left the two of them to wake up together- and to continue their debate over the existence of the fish omelette.

As soon as Kunikazu had learned to talk, we realized he was able to understand Morgana. We weren’t sure why this was- we only knew that we were going to have to deal with this wholly unique issue on our own terms as soon as our two year old son began happily chatting with the family cat. Long ago, the three of us had put our heads together and decided it probably had something to do with him being the son of two Persona users- perhaps as a result he would have a stronger connection to the Metaverse in some way, but we gave up trying to find out exactly where the ability came from long ago. He and Morgana were very close- they did almost everything together.

Back in the kitchen, my wife was finishing up her cup of coffee and marking away at her calendar. I hovered over her as she worked, and rested my hands lightly on her narrow shoulders.

“They’re up. Can I get you anything for breakfast?”

“A pastry, please,” she replied, grimacing over the schedule. “Thank you.”

I turned on the stove and for a brief instant felt the kick of gas pervade the indoor morning air. The burner lit with a few clicks, and I opened the fridge to get some eggs. One by one, I cracked them on the rim of one of Haru’s favorite ornate bowls and whipped their yolks into a creamy yellow. The house was silent, save for my cooking and some muffled high-pitched conversation from Kunikazu’s room down the hall.

Haru marked some scribbles on her calendar. “Hey, you can take him to school tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Thank you.”

While the eggs bubbled gently in their pan, I took a cherry pastry from the cupboard and prepared it on a plate with a napkin and a glass of water. Haru only liked the cherry pastries- we had a pantry full of them. I set it on the table for her and she gave me a little grin, not quite looking up from her work.

“Is there fish in them?” Kunikazu inquired as he entered the room, wearing some sweatpants and a printed t-shirt.

“Not today,” I answered.

Morgana, at his heel, scowled. “Guess it’s kibble for me this morning, then.”

Haru kissed Kunikazu good morning as I prepared everyone’s plates. The clinking of each item against the countertop had become the minimalist soundtrack of our Sunday morning ritual, and now it played with hushed accents over the scene. I set the plates down and Haru put away her calendar. Steam from the hot omelettes billowed forth like smoke from the summits of tiny smoldering volcanoes.

I seated myself at the circular table. Morgana had been serious about his protest, and crunched on some kibble near the stove.

“Mona-chan,” Haru asked. “Do you want any of my pastry, perhaps?”

He shook his head dramatically. “I’ll have a meal or nothing at all!”

“Suit yourself,” I said, cutting into my omelette.

A quiet moment passed as we ate. When I looked up, I thought I glimpsed some distant thought swimming behind Haru’s eyes- but in an instant, it was gone.

* * *

The quaint morning all but disappeared in the hot and hectic rush that followed. Okumura Cafe had humble beginnings- Haru had started work on it soon after we started dating- but in the past four years or so it had really started to snowball into popularity. The early mornings that were once quaint and sparsely populated had become bustling and frantic, particularly on Sundays. Most mornings, I was here, helping Haru run everything smoothly and doing my best to outwardly represent the sincerity she so deeply valued at the core of her business.

Today, Kunikazu and I were helping with brews and korokke in the back while Haru was taking orders and waiting tables.

“Hey Dad?” Kunikazu asked. “How did people first think to drink coffee?”

I thought about it. It _was_ kind of an odd thing to try.

“Well, I’m not really sure. I imagine someone tried because the beans smelled good.”

“There’s just a lot of steps,” he continued. “They have to cook the seeds, right?”

“That’s right.”

“So who thought to cook a seed!? And drink it?”

I imagined that a lot of people died eating things back in ancient times, but I held my tongue about that.

“People are definitely weird,” I said.

“Cats are weird, too.”

Morgana gave his very expected- and impressively consistent- reply from somewhere past the storage closet: “I’m not a cat!”

Just as I’d finished the brew, Haru opened the kitchen door and poked her head in, her fluffy hair bouncing.

“I hate to bother you,” she asked sweetly. “But do you think you could help me out here for a moment?”

I patted my hands dry on my apron and nodded.

She made her way out of the kitchen to the front of the store and I followed, examining her back as she walked with that muted urgency I’d grown familiar with. She wore a light pink blouse and a clean white apron, and I suddenly realized I’d been wearing the same apron since my days with Sojiro at LeBlanc. It was a little strange; I’d never been particularly passionate about coffee, but it felt like I shared some fateful link to it- I’d been living above cafes for the greater half of my life, after all, through no real desire of my own.

The front end of the shop was a mess. Itsuo, one of our part-time high school employees, was struggling to understand a suit-wearing man who was half yelling into his phone and half ordering something large and complicated while a line of four or five impatient businessman built up behind him. Each of our booths were completely full, forcing a few patrons to stand around and wait for their order. A confused cashier, backed up service, a spill unattended to on the wood floor- another Sunday morning at Okumura Cafe.

“We’ll handle the tables,” Haru assessed. “That should take a bit of pressure off of Itsuo.”

I nodded. “Want me to do something about the spill?”

She looked over at it, and her cheeks flushed. She must not have noticed it. “No, no. I’ll handle it. You’re doing enough.” She took a short breath. “Thank you.”

With that she headed over to the booths, clasping her hands together beneath her collarbone and greeting the seated man with genuine appreciation. “Good morning sir! Welcome to Okumura Cafe!”

I followed her example with significantly less charm, approaching a quiet middle aged man playing with a straw wrapper in the adjacent booth and asking him if there was anything I could get for him.

“One cup of black.” he replied simply.

I nodded and headed towards the back to fetch his order, passing Haru’s exchange with her customer and pausing when I heard:

“...waiting here for a good half an hour.”

I stopped and observed the situation, just in case she needed a hand. It wasn’t rare for customers to take blatant advantage of her kind nature.

“I’m very sorry, we’re just so busy.” she responded, true concern in her voice. “I can get you something on the house, if you’d like.”

“Don’t give me that act,” the man scoffed. “I’m not sure why you’re prancing around here like that when there’s a spill right in the middle of the floor. I nearly broke my neck on it.”

“I’m truly very, very sorry.” She stuttered a bit. “W-We’re going to get that cleaned up right away for you. I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll get on it right away, sir. Did you know what you wanted to order?”

“Let’s talk when my area’s clean. That’s the first step.”

She nervously fidgeted with her apron. “Of course. Sorry.”

He turned his attention back to his phone. I’d seen countless men like him before- the sort of man who took every meager chance he could to make himself feel powerful. Haru turned around and wordlessly headed for the storage closet, eyes cloudy. I followed her.

“Let me clean up the spill,” I offered. There was no reason why she had to do that right now. I wasn’t very good at speaking to customers anyway, and that was where she shined.

“You’re doing enough. It’s more than I could ask for.”

For a quick moment she leaned against the counter, closed her eyes, and took a short breath.

Running this cafe with her had taught me one valuable lesson- food service patrons were vicious assholes. The first time I said “Someone needs a change of heart at table 4,” Haru laughed so hard she spilled the cup she’d been carrying. I found myself wishing I would’ve saved that joke for this moment instead.

“It’s just a spill,” she said. “Don’t worry so much.”

And with that she grabbed the mop and some paper towels and went back to keep doing what she’d always done- breathing in the parts of the world that were hard, jagged, and foul and breathing them out soft, sweet, and beautiful.

* * *

The morning was hard work, but it went on as usual. Haru managed to keep everything running without issue for most of the day, and as she preoccupied herself with pursuing perfection, I found myself drifting away from my work- like my mind was somewhere outside, shrouded in the sunshower.

Now it was around eight, just as the sun was starting to settle over the bronze horizon. Kunikazu was playing videogames with Morgana’s help in his room, and I decided to take a shower and start getting ready for bed. I liked getting ready early, letting my warm hair dry itself as I lounged in a towel, feeling sleep creep over me slowly and never all at once.

The bathroom mirror fogged as the shower heated up. I watched myself slowly vanish into the mist.

As I stepped into the shower and massaged the hot water through my hair, I thought about my Mementos dream. I wondered if Arsene was still with me- if that part of me saw us at the cafe today, through my eyes, and watched me as I worked.

* * *

When I got out of the shower, I lay in bed for a while, looking up at the textured white of the ceiling and watching the dark corners of evening slowly spread like moss across the room. Haru emerged from her own shower, smelling like cinnamon and daffodils, dressed in her oversized sleeping shirt and purple plaid pajama bottoms. She climbed into bed beside me with an exhausted sigh.

After a long silence of settling in, she spoke groggily. “I wish we had space for a garden here.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but her breath already carried with it the shallowness of sleep.

* * *

The sun rose to the sound of birds singing on the telephone wires outside. When I opened my eyes, a sight so gorgeous greeted me that I couldn’t be sure I was awake. Summer shimmered outside the window in glorious motion- sun-pierced leaves swayed lazily against a backdrop of crystalline blue as rolling white clouds, like mountains, cascaded against one another in the skies. Our street below shone in the light, little crystals embedded in black gleaming, building faces hand-painted with bright color and deep shadow.

“It’s beautiful today, isn’t it?” Haru asked. “Nothing like that ugly rain yesterday.”

I turned to see her illuminated in the morning light, wearing her pink blouse and apron, her hair held back with a hairband. She looked classically beautiful- something that channeled the smell of home cooking and fresh flowers.

I nodded. Although I liked the rain too, today was something else.

“You’re up early,” I observed.

“I thought I’d get a head start on everything. I don’t want things falling apart like yesterday.”

I climbed out of bed and she gave me a quick morning kiss, her lips as warm as the summer air. Then she looked at me, her brown eyes clairvoyant in the sunshine.

“You can still take Kunikazu to school, right?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay.”

Then, unexpectedly, she drew me into a hug. Her hands gripped my back with a certain urgency, her hair soft like feathers against my neck. I hugged her back, and she held on tightly, pressing her head into my shoulder. Her breathing felt anxious. We stood like that for a moment, until she released me and walked back into the bathroom, closing the door without another word. The birds outside chirped gleefully, muffled through the glass.

Kunikazu was already dressed in his uniform and ready to leave when I went to his room to wake him, and that’s when I realized how late I’d slept in. There was no time to cook, and so I got Kunikazu one of Haru’s pastries from the pantry and we hurried out the door, down the stairs, and onto the street.

Here, the sun was even more brilliant. The world simply went on and on- no screen or window to box it in, the streets and powerlines and the clouds all bleeding into a single massive painting, a still backdrop against which we moved as we made our way to the station. Kunikazu ate his pastry and looked around at the pastel scene.

The crowds weren’t too thick, but they were definitely tangible. A shifting and scattered mass of men and women ebbed and flowed around us, all black and white, almost indistinguishable from one another. They reminded me somehow of electrons, or how I imagined electrons would look. I thought back to my chemistry class at Shujin- diagrams on the blackboard, language that described motion, unpredictability- mindless scattering that held up the world.

“I don’t like going to school.” Kunikazu said plainly, between bites.

“Why not?” I asked him.

“It’s boring.”

I suppose he wasn’t wrong about that part. I did well enough in school, but I never particularly enjoyed it.

“The classes might be boring,” I replied. “But what about your friends?”

“They’re pretty boring, too.”

For a moment I thought back on my days when I was his age- trying to remember how I felt about school back then, or friends, or anything. I was surprised at how few memories came. I remembered getting in trouble a lot- constant write ups, lectures, and punishment at home. But not too many friends, and the friends that came to mind were now distant names and shapes, formless and memorialized, long gone.

“It gets better,” I assured him. “Once you get a little older, your friends will change and you’ll be grateful for them.”

“Okay,” he said.

I thought about my dream, those youthful faces, their electric eyes.

We arrived at the station and I sent him on his way, down the stairs, to ride the line to school alone.

* * *

I floated back to the cafe as the sun perched itself over the world. The buildings that bordered the street looked like the walls of a concrete canyon, all the signs and billboards like little imperfections on a desert rock face.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Ryuji or Ann in almost a year, and that I hadn’t seen any of the others for at least two. I felt almost guilty about the way I spoke to Kunikazu, always telling him this or that, letting him know when things would be better and how, when in reality I had no idea what path his life would take, and neither did anyone else.

Last I knew, Makoto was somewhere out in California, Futaba was living in Osaka, and Ryuji and Ann were moving into a new place not far outside of Shibuya, although I couldn’t recall exactly where. Yusuke may as well have been a ghost- I hadn’t seen him in the longest time out of any of them, and I didn’t have a clue where he might be. Something about that didn’t feel right, like the compass in my head couldn’t find north.

When I turned the corner onto our street, every thought in my head dropped to my stomach and exploded at once. A fire truck sat parked on the curb in front of the cafe, siren screaming at uneven intervals and lights flashing, as a panicked commotion echoed from a crowd that hovered around the scene. I searched for Haru’s shape among the countless others, but didn’t find it.

Now my stomach was a forest fire and my footsteps were cracking tree branches as I jogged up to the cafe, pushing my way wordlessly through the crowd. I spotted the yellow jacket of a firefighter, and grabbed his shoulder from behind.

My mouth was dry as bone. "This is my house. What happened?"

He turned and looked at me without a modicum of concern, like his eyes were goddamn rocks.

"There was a fire in the kitchen."

"My wife, is she alright?"

"There's a woman inside, yes. She's okay."

I brushed past him and went to the front door of the cafe, opened it, and hurried in. I took a sharp right past the counter into the kitchen, muttering some things under my breath, little comforts without form.

Haru stood shaken in the middle of the kitchen, drenched in water from the sprinklers in the ceiling, hair dark and matted, her eyes glazed over with shocked confusion. I went to her.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, dazed. “Mmhm, yes, I am. The stove...”

I looked past her. The entire stovetop must’ve caught fire- leaving the countertop and oven charred black and deformed, warped like a metal fungus. The damage spanned about a third of the entire kitchen, but was worst at the far wall. Soot and ash and smoke floated in the air and coated the white tile floor in a sickly grey film. The sprinklers still misted the scene as two firefighters squatted close to the damage, inspecting it.

She looked at me, at first the words catching in her throat. “I don’t really understand.”

“It isn’t your fault,” I told her.

“I didn’t even _see_ what happened… ”

One of the firefighters must have noticed me come in. He stood up and approached us, his demeanor rigid and stern, like a human tree trunk.

“The fire came awfully close to hitting the gas line,” he said matter-of-factly. “This could have been much worse.”

At that Haru shuddered and inhaled sharply, completely harrowed. She looked cold in her wet clothes.

“Thank you,” I said, pulling the man aside. “Is everything okay now? Is there anything we need to do?”

“We’ve already turned off your gas line. You won’t be able to turn that back on until the damage is repaired properly. Beyond that, there’s very little else we can do here, save for turn off the sprinklers.”

He chewed on some tobacco in his lip, and brushed his scraggly beard with his fingers. I imagined that all he did was fight fires and sleep. “Had it burned for another few minutes, the gas line would have exploded and killed everybody here. Next building over maybe, too.”

I looked at him. His eyes were grey and didn’t know how to tell a lie.

I took Haru to one of the booths to sit down and the firefighters turned off the sprinklers and left. I thanked them for their help on their way out but they all ignored me, save for the one I spoke to in the kitchen, who gave me simply an affirmative nod. The crowd of customers dispersed from the front of the store and the fire truck pulled away silently, and in what felt like mere seconds the shop was silent as a graveyard, it’s new state cemented in reality.

Haru just sat there and stared at the table, her breathing slow, her hair dripping, her eyes filled with a thousand thoughts.

“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s go upstairs and dry off.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

We opened the door to a very angry and confused Morgana.

“What the hell happened, guys?” he spat. “I heard a huge commotion and I couldn’t even get down there!”

His demeanor softened when we entered. “Is she okay?”

“I’m okay, Mona,” she said quietly. “We really do need to get you a cat door.”

I explained the situation to Morgana and then we went to the bedroom as he rushed downstairs to see the damage. I picked Haru out some dry clothes from the closet and handed them to her as she undressed in the bathroom. She emerged disheveled, her hair towel-dried and her under-eyes dark. She sat down on the side of the bed, supporting herself with her hands, looking down at the floor.

“It isn’t your fault,” I told her, taking a seat, the bed creaking with stress as I did so.

“I don’t really want comforting right now, I don’t think.”

“I’m not comforting you. I’m being honest.”

“I opened the shop alone,” she said plainly. “I turned the stove on, and I left it on, and then I left the room. Then, it caught on fire.”

The ceiling fan spun quietly above our heads with an electronic whirr. I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I suppose that’s right,” I said.

She nodded. “I know.”

A brief moment of silence passed as she searched for words.

“I was taking orders by the booths,” she said. “And then, I heard this really loud pop. For some reason, my first thought was that it was a gun. Like in Mementos. Everyone in the cafe looked up. And all of a sudden there was smoke pouring out of the doorway. And I just stared. It was so…”

She leaned back and lay down on the bed, and I did the same. We both stared up at the spinning ceiling fan.

“...strange,” she concluded. “Because I didn’t even move, or panic. Everyone just got up from their seats and left very quickly. One moment they were all sitting there, and before I even knew it, it was just me and the fire.”

I watched her recall it all, her eyes tracing the spinning wooden blades above us.

“And then I realized that it was me who had to deal with this,” she continued. “Like it was some great revelation- like, _Oh, I should probably do something about the fire_.”

She shook her head. “I just walked into the kitchen, calmly. I wasn’t afraid of the fire at all. I didn’t even feel urgent about it. I just went to look. Like I was curious. And that’s when the sprinklers turned on.” She took a deep, long breath. “And before I knew it, I was hearing sirens, and the firefighters were there, and then so were you.”

She turned and looked at me, a sad guilt written on her face.

“Is that bad?” she asked me. “I feel like that wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.”

I looked her in her hazel eyes, tainted now with grey. Gone was their brilliant shine from the sunlight of morning.

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.

She sighed to herself. “Hm.”

We didn’t speak for a moment. Outside I heard someone honk their car horn. Summer went on as usual.

I pictured her standing in that kitchen as the sprinklers poured down, as the fire raged on the stovetop, just watching. Pictured that flame burning closer and closer to the gasline, inches away, seconds away, and how my entire world would have been obliterated in a single flash of white hot energy, like it never existed. I would’ve returned home to a crater. I couldn’t fathom it. Instead I chose to study the fabric on my wife’s shirt as little dust planets floated in a sunbeam, and to let that other reality fade into nothingness, unacknowledged, unreal.

“Do you remember that first summer,” she asked me, “when we moved here together?”

I nodded. “Everyone helped with the boxes. And we were juggling Kunikazu from house to house almost every night.”

“And Morgana kept trying to carry boxes on his back.”

I remembered that. He was stubborn, that couldn’t be denied. “I think he actually managed one of the smaller ones, didn’t he?”

“He never let any of us forget it,” she recalled, smiling to herself. “He kept saying he’d done more than Ryuji.”

She searched for something in my eyes. “That was a really good summer.”

It had been. Kunikazu had been just a baby, and the cafe below had been an abandoned bookstore. It had all felt new and charged back then, like every floorboard was brimming with an energy we sipped from with every new day, as we restructured and recreated and made it all our own.

“It was.”

“Today,” she said with a deep melancholy, “I couldn’t believe I was watching the same house burn. It was like those memories weren’t made here.”

I lightly combed my fingers through her hair. Her gaze fell to the bed sheets. It lingered there for a long while.

“I miss them,” she said. “I think I want to see them again, if we can.”

“I’d like that,” I replied.

We spent the rest of the day lazing around at home. Haru took a long shower and I made myself some food in the kitchen and talked to Morgana about how ugly firetrucks were. I got Kunikazu from the train station in the afternoon and told him what had happened, but he didn’t seem too surprised, or particularly concerned. For him, it was just another thing that had happened. We watched one of Haru’s favorite TV shows about gardening, although it was a rerun, and I made a call to a local contractor to get a head start on the kitchen repairs. Outside, I knew the world was blooming, but inside, the world just felt small.

* * *

The next morning, I sent Ryuji a text. Haru dozed quietly next to me, unmoving, her breaths rhythmic and calm. I was glad her mind had seemed to settle.

 _“Hey Ryuji, how’ve you been?”_ I typed, pressing send after a quick proofread.

Before I could even put down the phone down, it buzzed with Ryuji’s reply:

_“DuDE! What’s up? I was just gonna text you yesterday!!!?”_

I smiled.

Some things never change.


	2. Chapter II

_Chapter II_

 

Haru loved driving. As a girl, she’d always been driven everywhere, either by her father or his employees. She took the train to see me after I’d moved back home, and she’d commuted to school on the subway- so the need had never been there, and the time had never really been right.

The same year Kunikazu was conceived, though, we bought her a sky blue Volkswagen Beetle and starting practicing. She took to it almost immediately. She loved the freedom of the open country roads, the control her hands had on the wheel. She was great at it, too. When Haru drove, you never worried about her following anyone too closely or coming to an abrupt stop- much like her temperament, a car in her hands was calm and even-kilter. I remember watching her learn to drive, many years ago in spring, the windows rolled down, a cool breeze ruffling her hair, pink sunglasses gleaming against the golden shimmer of the sky. It’s an image I think about often.

That was why she was driving today. The sun was shrouded in summer clouds, the windows were rolled up, and there were no pink sunglasses in sight- but still, she held a calm and delicate focus as her eyes scanned the road and the tires coasted effortlessly over the pavement.

We were on our way to Ryuji and Ann’s apartment, about two hours out of the city. I always liked to watch Tokyo melt away when we made drives out to the countryside- each building was smaller than the last until the world fell flat, like one colossal wave of concrete breaking onto a beach’s shore. Kunikazu was at home with Morgana, who we trusted enough to look after the house. They’d both wanted desperately to come, but school wasn’t something Kunikazu could miss, and Morgana understood he couldn’t be left alone. Now, without our son here, watching Haru drive in silence, I was reminded of what the world had felt like so very long ago- a world untethered, a world wherein questions might still matter, one wherein I hadn’t yet seen my life’s purpose so clearly in the deep brown eyes of my newborn child.

When we left this morning, we checked in on the kitchen. Inside, the construction workers were making incredible progress on the damage- in the week that had passed since the fire, they’d almost completely finished restoring the kitchen to it’s original state. We’d even invested some extra funds in order to upgrade our infrastructure while we still had the chance: a shiny new stove, all stainless steel and touch-screen enabled, sat covered in plastic on the newly laid floor, ready to occupy the old nook in the countertop. I imagined it sitting there almost smugly, like it knew I had no choice but to eventually forget about the old one.

We needed to be back home pretty early tomorrow in order to approve the finalization of the repairs, but I wasn’t worried- the drive wasn’t too long, and I was a morning person.

According to Ryuji, our cafe fire couldn’t have happened at a better time. Makoto was back home for the next two weeks visiting Sae, and Futaba would be making a trip back to Tokyo this weekend for some sort of license renewal- and so they’d both be meeting up with us at the apartment tonight. Yusuke was supposedly coming as well, although Ryuji’s tendency to text a little less than clearly made it difficult for me to know exactly what circumstances had allowed for that.

A special type of anticipation bubbled in my stomach. Time had a certain way of changing people in intangible ways, and I wasn’t sure how I’d react if something felt wrong. Sometimes all it took was a different glint in someone’s eyes for things to feel foreign.

“What do you think their new place is going to look like?” Haru asked, her eyes still fixed attentively on the road.

“Half pink and half yellow, with a big line down the middle.”

She laughed. The car muffled the sound of tires rolling on sun-baked asphalt.

 

* * *

 

We arrived not too long afterwards at our destination- a modestly sized apartment building nestled amongst telephone poles and framed with criss crossing black power lines that sliced up the sky. I couldn’t decide if the partially chipped and faded paint on it’s face was charming or not. The late afternoon sun cast shadows of deep black on the pavement.

“Hm,” Haru muttered. “I suppose I was expecting something different, although I’m not sure what.”

We got out of the car as the scent of summer floated lazily in the heat. She wore a purple sundress and sandals and I wore a short sleeved white shirt and comfortably cool slacks. We looked a bit like tourists who’d taken a wrong turn.

I texted Ryuji to let him know we’d arrived, and we waited at the door to the apartment complex for a short while.

“Do you think the two of them will be alright at home?” she asked.

“He’s a better kid than we give him credit for,” I replied. “I can’t imagine him doing anything drastically irresponsible.”

“I hope not.”

Suddenly, a series of loud bangs rung out from somewhere behind the door. Their source immediately became clear when Ryuji’s muffled voice exclaimed from inside: “Holy shit! Ann! They’re here!”

The door swung open and before I even knew it, Ryuji had me in a vice grip of a hug. Ann emerged seconds later, giving Haru the same treatment, coupled with an ecstatic “You’re here!”

Haru managed to squeeze out a reply from her affectionate prison. “Yes! It’s so great to see you both!”

Nostalgia washed over me like a wave- the entire exchange had the surreal quality of déjà vu. My anxiety melted away in the summer heat as their forms, vivid in every detail and demeanor, brought back memories of countless little moments forgotten.

Ryuji broke off the hug and I was able to see him clearly for the first time in a long while. His skin was weathered, no doubt a result of all the time he spent in the sun as Shujin’s track coach, and his previously beach blond head of hair was now dyed only at the tips, with a few flecks of natural grey sprinkled in, as if to accent the pallette. His beaming smile looked the way it always had- earnest and genuine.

“Akira!” he half-yelled. “What took you guys so long?”

“It’s a bit of a drive,” I replied. “It’s great to see you.”

Ann came over and gave me a hug, tears welling up in her eyes. “I missed you both so much!”

Her long blonde hair was let all the way down, flowing freely in the light summer breeze. She wore golden hoop earrings and a red blouse. She was still a very beautiful woman, some aspect of time seemingly unable to wear away at the surface of her porcelain skin.

“You look great, Ann.”

Her embrace was intimate and real. Ann and Ryuji both held a great capacity for love- despite all the jokes we’d made about the unlikelihood of their relationship over the years, both behind their backs and to their faces, none could claim that they didn’t share purity of heart.

“I want to hear everything. You guys have to tell me everything! Oh, right-” she stopped herself abruptly. “You’d probably rather talk inside, right?”

They turned and led us up the iron stairwell, our footsteps echoing and clipping against the metal excitedly and unevenly. Each set of footsteps clashed with the others, giving the entire endeavor an off-kilter musical quality. We climbed so many flights that Haru and I started to pant before we reached the top.

Ryuji’s already quite loud voice was amplified here. “Come on Akira, don’t tell me you’re neglecting your cardio?”

“Not today, I’m not.”

We reached the top and followed a long and quite unsightly hallway to their apartment door- white concrete walls and unpleasant scents accented our journey. Eventually, we all stopped at a door near the end. A light flickered like a strobe and hummed loudly above apartment 817.

“Here’s us,” Ryuji boasted.

He unlocked the door and it swung open with a slight drag on the floor, and we all went in.

My guess back in the car hadn’t been entirely wrong- there was a lot of pink, and a lot of yellow. Disheveled felt like a malicious word to use, but I couldn’t help that it flashed through my mind. The apartment probably looked pretty normal to most, but Haru and I kept such a tidy living space that the amount of hair brushes, skincare products, makeup, sweatpants and tracksuits strewn across most of the visible surfaces surprised me. As my eyes scanned the room and found more and more _stuff everywhere_ , “trainwreck” joined “disheveled”.

“Some view, huh?” Ryuji asked.

I hadn’t even noticed the sliding glass door that opened to a tiny concrete balcony towards the back of the room. It overlooked the apartment complex’s central courtyard- which was filled mostly with old plastic picnic tables and dying grass.

“It’s charming!” Haru offered.

The pair of them led us to the middle of the room, apparently the living room. A large leather couch sat a couple meters from a giant flatscreen TV setup, complete with a Playstation and speakers. This area had probably been the only one they’d cleaned up before our arrival- save for a couple stray pink socks and the occasional soda can, the couch, it's surrounding tables, and the TV stand all looked tidy. I couldn’t blame Ann for not bothering with the rest.

“Here guys, have a seat,” she gestured. She sounded ecstatic to have us here, like the end of every word would’ve been punctuated with an excited scream had she not exercised some significant restraint.

We all dropped into the comfortable leather of the slightly reclined couch, relieved to be finished with our eight story climb.

Ryuji spoke first. “The fact that the elevator’s been broken for the past month is what’s been keeping me in top shape for the summer track season.”

“A whole month?” Haru asked, shocked. “You make that climb twice a day?”

“Four times,” Ann chimed in. “Because I make him buy me food every night.”

Ryuji huffed. “She does.”

“I’m not sure how you guys do it,” Haru said. “Can’t you tell someone about it?”

“There’s no way they don’t already know,” he answered. “Plus, we don’t really mind. It keeps us out of the house longer, knowing we have to go all the way back up.”

I thought about that. I don’t think that would’ve ever really crossed my mind- to spin a broken elevator into a quality of life improvement.

Ann got up and glided over to the kitchen- one of those kinds that was halfway connected to the living room, with a bar overlooking the couch. “Anyone want something to drink?” she offered. “I’m gonna have you all talking yourselves to death today.”

“I’ll take a drink,” Haru replied, folding her hands politely between her knees.

Ryuji and I both echoed her sentiment.

“Gotcha,” Ann confirmed.

Ryuji sighed loudly and contentedly as he stretched his arms up and crossed them behind his head, propping his legs up on the coffee table. “The kid couldn’t make it?”

My wife shook her head. “Not this time. He had school.”

“He wasn’t sad about not seeing his uncle Ryuji?”

“Oh, he was _very_ sad. But I told him you’d visit soon.”

“Damn straight I will. Can’t imagine how well mannered that kid probably is, bein’ raised by you two.”

“You’d be surprised,” I said wryly. “He takes after you in more ways than one.”

Ann returned from the kitchen with a handful of cold drinks and sat them down on the coffee table with a clink. The motion called attention to a stack of magazines I hadn’t yet noticed- the top of which featured a familiar blue-eyed lady, beaming at the camera and posed with professional and unmistakable poise.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh!” Ann exclaimed. “Sorry, it’s kind of embarrassing having them out like that.”

“Come on,” Ryuji encouraged.

She flushed a bit, but explained anyway. “They’re pretty much all unpopular magazines or department store catalogs.”

She spread the stack out across the coffee table, revealing a diverse set of periodicals. I counted about twenty of them. Haru took one off the table and we looked at it together.

“That’s a catalogue for a mall outside of Osaka,” Ann explained.

It was printed on thin, almost newspaper like material with ink that gave it an ugly, muted quality. The catalogue itself was probably only eight pages thick and clearly thrown together to promote some weekend sale- but still, on the very front, for all the world to see, was Ann in a black cardigan and skinny jeans, leaning up against a chain-link fence.

Haru looked up at her. “Isn’t this something you’ve wanted to do since we were kids?”

“On and off,” she replied, a proud smile starting to form on her lips.

“That’s really amazing.”

Ann sat herself on the coffee table, rifling through the stack. “I’d like to get a contract with a big brand,” she elaborated. “But for now, it just feels great to be out there, you know?”

“Finally,” Ryuji added. “Pretty much everybody turned her away for like, two years straight. And for no good reason.”

“What did you guys do during that time?” Haru asked, concerned.

“Ryuji worked a whole lot. He got a night job at a ramen place down the street.”

He nodded proudly, holding up one of the glossier and thicker magazines from the stack. “And it payed off!”

My wife exchanged a quick glance with me. _“Two jobs for two years?”_ Her eyes seemed to ask. It was definitely an incredible showing of commitment, especially for a couple who hadn’t even tied the knot yet.

“The drinks! I forgot.”

As July haze settled outside the window in the hot evening and the air conditioning hummed somewhere above, Ann passed around a can of beer to each of us, frosted and cold to the touch. I was a little surprised- I hadn’t been expecting alcohol, and judging from the look on Haru’s face, she hadn’t been either. I couldn’t even remember the last time we drank. Sometime long before Kunikazu, that was for certain.

“Oh,” Haru said sheepishly, placing her can back onto the coffee table. “I think I’ll pass. Thank you very much, though.”

“Suit yourself,” Ryuji dismissed, leaning back and cracking open his beer with a crisp hiss.

“Well, it’s there if you want it,” Ann assured her.

I thought it over for a minute, but decided I’d have one. Here, in this strange other world, the reality of our lives in Tokyo felt a lightyear away. The summer air and cadence of conversation had put me in the spirit to go along with whatever our hosts had in mind, and if they wanted to have a beer with me, I wouldn’t object. The cold and bitter taste of it fizzled onto my tongue.

“So, the fire? What was that like?” Ryuji asked.

“It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure,” I answered, taking another sip. “The moment I saw it, it felt completely surreal. You never think you’re going to see that sort of scene in front of your home. It feels out of place.”

“Haru, you were there, right?”

“Yes, I was,” she replied hesitantly.

“How bad was it? Is it the entire bottom floor?”

She started to fidget with her hands.

“No,” she shook her head. “It was just some of the kitchen. They’ve almost entirely repaired it already.”

“Oh, well that’s great,” Ann added.

“It is.”

Suddenly, there was a deafeningly loud and startlingly frantic bang on the apartment door. Haru jolted with a quiet gasp, but Ryuji and Ann only seemed to exchange a knowing and excited glance with one another.

“Finally,” Ryuji huffed, vaulting over the back of the couch towards the door.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Your favorite,” he replied.

We all stood as Ryuji swung the door open. Standing impatiently in the doorframe was a woman I hardly even recognized at first- Futaba Sakura. She looked taller now than I’d ever remembered her being- at least as tall as, if not taller than, Haru. I didn’t think she could’ve actually grown from the last time I’d seen her- it must’ve been something about how she carried herself. Her shape had grown more slender and her eyes still shone behind her new wire-framed glasses with that well-read and self-assured glimmer I’d nearly forgotten entirely. Her hair was cut shorter, too- it flowed with a faintly tousled wave to her shoulders, where it abruptly stopped, cut cleanly and evenly with a clinical flair. A sharp wit radiated from her. She came inside and immediately spotted Haru and I.

“Well I’ll be damned. It really _is_ you two.”

“We found some time,” I answered.

She came over to us and gave me a hug. It felt different than the hug Ann had given- it was reserved and tentative, like it was a moment she was capturing in her mind to store forever.

“You’re an asshole, you know,” she told me matter-of-factly.

“Why’s that?”

“You gotta call more. A lot more.”

She broke off the hug and turned to embrace Haru. It didn’t share the same tenderness- she and my wife got along just fine, but they’d never been particularly close. I’d often wondered why that might be. Perhaps they were just different types of people, was all. Sometimes a tiny stopwatch mechanism deep inside a person’s heart just refuses to move. I couldn’t be sure why.

“It’s great to see you,” Haru said.

“You’re keeping him fed, I hope?”

“He’s keeping _me_ fed most days.”

“He’s gotta be a good housewife.”

“I try my best,” I said.

Futaba turned and greeted Ryuji and Ann, casually and comfortably, like she’d just seen them last week. She was obviously no stranger to this apartment. Then, she spotted the cans of beer on the coffee table. “Ho boy,” she sighed. “You guys are getting plastered already?”

“I wish,” Ryuji lamented.

“How about we open up the porch?” Ann suggested.

We all nodded in agreement. My skin felt parched for sunlight. She got up and opened the sliding glass doors, letting the hot air billow in, feathering my face with golden warmth. It wasn't too hot- the air conditioning assured that- but it was instead just right, the perfect sensation, the kind that changed to be pleasant the very moment it became uncomfortable.

The sun hung low in the sky as we all talked about nothing in particular.

 

* * *

  

We drank a bit more and a subtle warmth spread out all the way to my fingertips. The sun had almost set behind the courtyard wall, the sky crimson and peach, rivers of color floating in gas.

Eventually, another knock came at the door- this one of normal volume.

Ann got up and opened it, revealing Makoto standing calmly in the hall. She wore a professionally pressed white shirt, a long black skirt, and a pearl necklace, all of which gave her a wealthy aura, like an actress. Her hair was longer now, down well past her chest, those same piercing eyes now somehow harsher, like her gaze could cut through steel. It had been ages since I’d heard that prim and proper edge to her voice.

“I’m sorry we’re late. Both of us were held up in different ways.”

From the hallway emerged Yusuke, who must’ve only been a couple feet behind. His hair was the same medium-length razor clean cut, his calm disposition unwavering, his politely held hands steady. He wore a blue shirt, buttoned all the way down with flawless care, black slacks, and dress shoes. He’d changed so little since the last time I’d seen him, it was as if he were some sort of android.

“If it isn’t Inari,” Futaba observed, moving in to give him a powerful hug.

“I wish that name would die,” Yusuke insisted, the air hardly escaping his mouth.

“You’re late,” she scolded.

“Apologies,” he conceded. “There was some sort of drastic delay with the trains.”

“And I started heading over here the moment I unpacked,” Makoto explained. “It’s been a nightmare of a day.”

Ann hugged them both, one in each arm. “Well come in, come in!”

They did so, Makoto with authoritative poise and Yusuke with a graceful gait.

“My,” Yusuke observed. “This place is an absolute disaster.”

“Hey now,” Ryuji rebuddled. “It’s homey. It’s uh… lived in. Your place probably gives people the creeps.”

Yusuke chuckled. “I very much doubt that.”

Ann waived the complaint. “I know, I know. I have to clean. We’re always busy.”

“Don’t worry about it for a second,” Makoto assured her. “I’m just at ease to finally be here. The past few days have been stressful beyond what you’d believe.”

“Here,” Haru offered. “You must be tired. Let me take your purse.”

“Oh, thank you Haru. I’ll be okay, though.”

Ann pulled in some more seats from the kitchen and put them out in front of the open sliding glass doors.

“Ryuji and I will take the stools,” Ann offered. “You guys take the couch.”

Our two new guests put down their things and took a seat.

“As you can see,” Futaba gestured to the open bottles that littered the space. “We’re having a bit. Don’t feel pressured.”

Makoto played with her hair in thought. “I don’t have it in me tonight, I don’t think.”

Haru looked concerned. “What exactly happened, Makoto-chan?”

“Well,” she explained. “First of all, the flight in was a nightmare. We hit some storm on the way over, my seat was way too small, and I had to sit next to this obnoxious American tourist who wouldn’t stop asking me about my ‘culture’.”

“Ugh,” Ann empathized. “It’s the worst.”

Futaba suddenly held up her hand. “Wait, wait, wait, Makoto-”

“Yes?”

“I wanna hear the rest, I really do- but does anyone else feel that breeze?”

We all stopped and felt it. It rolled in over saffron black summer hills and onto the wood floor, smelling of soil and freshness and life. My hair swayed back and forth as it cooled my face like mint.

“Ryuji,” Futaba inquired. “Can we go to the roof? Remember last time?”

He looked to Ann, who shrugged and smiled.

“I don’t see why not, it’s a beautiful night. Everyone okay with that?”

We all nodded. I wanted to take my hands and pull the open sliding glass doors up and around me, so I could feel that breeze from every angle at once.

“First-” Ryuji announced. “We’re taking a _roof_ shot.”

“But we aren’t on the roof…” Haru pointed out.

“No, no, like a _we’re going to the roof_ shot.”

“You’re an idiot,” Futaba pointed out. “But I’m down.”

Ryuji got up from his stool and took a giant bottle of liquor from some cupboard in the kitchen, along with an armful of shot glasses, and sat everything down on the coffee table. Some of the glasses were simple and plain, a few multicolored, and one from some tourist attraction, a faded logo of some sort printed on it’s side.

“What is it that we’re drinking, exactly?” Yusuke asked.

“It’s uh…” Ryuji read the label as the drink sloshed in it’s bottle. “Nihonshu.”

Yusuke grinned, satisfied. “That’s great stuff.”

“Let’s hope.”

Haru looked at me hesitantly. I shrugged.

“Alright,” Ryuji commanded. “Pick one and line ‘em up!”

I took the green glass and Haru took a pink one. We each lined up the glasses we’d chosen in a neat row near the end of the table, everyone having selected one with the exception of Makoto.

“I thought you weren’t drinking, Haru?” Ann looked concerned, like she didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

“Just don’t push yourself if you don’t want to.”

Ryuji poured the bottle messily across the line of six little shot glasses. Ann gasped a little as some sloshed onto the table. “Don’t make a mess!”

“Okay!” Ryuji picked up the first glass, and handed it to Ann. “First, for my beautiful model, Panther. May your days become more and more booked, and may your dreams come true.”

“Why, that was sweet. You still shouldn’t have poured the drinks like that.”

“Next!” he announced, turning to Yusuke. “for our illusive and mysterious disappearing artist, Fox- who occasionally vanishes from the face of the earth to draw inspiration from alternate dimensions.”

Yusuke took the glass respectfully. “I know I can be difficult,” he admitted. “But I try my best.”

As he passed over Makoto, he gave her a curt nod. “None for Queen,” he said. “But we all should applaud her iron will.”

“I would if I could,” she explained.

Ann rolled her eyes. “He’s just being an ass.”

He targeted Futaba next. “And now, a drink for our friend Oracle, who never fails to show up when we need her.”

She nodded with honor and took the shot glass from him. “You two aren’t gonna look after yourselves.”

He looked at the table, hands on his hips. “Two left.”

“At least there won’t be much more of this,” I observed.

Ryuji picked up the glasses. “Shut it, people!” He approached Haru. “And next, for the sweet and caring Noir- may you never realize how below your level you settled.”

She took her glass with a little bow. “I couldn’t ask for higher praise, Ryuji.”

“Last, and definitely least,” he turned his attention to me. “Joker.” He handed me my drink. “It’s good to see you, buddy. I’m glad you two could make it.”

He raised his glass. “To the Phantom Thieves!”

A chorus of voices repeated his call with a vague undertone of embarrassment, like we all knew how ridiculous we were being. We clinked our glasses. I tilted my head back and nearly choked as the industrial-grade drain cleaner scorched my throat. I coughed violently, a dizzy ripple pulsing through the back of my spine. Apparently, some were better at this than I.

“Damn Haru!” Ryuji exclaimed. “You downed that like a veteran!”

“There's a side to me none of you see,” she said shyly. “The closet alcoholic.” She placed her glass back on the table daintily.

Ryuji grinned, amused. “Fuck it, then. Let’s do one more.”

“Oh, come on,” Ann complained. “Don’t make this a thing.”

Yusuke looked at Ann blankly, like he hadn’t taken a drink at all. “I’m fine for one more.”

“Same here,” Futaba agreed.

They looked at us expectantly. I gave a little nod. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright…” Ann conceded.

Ryuji filled another set of shots to the brim as the sun finally disappeared from the sky, like it had never been there at all. The shadows grew long and black and took over the room. I took another drink and everything started to subtly move.

 

* * *

 

Ryuji held up both hands, like he was trying to stop an invisible train. “Okay, everyone- missions. Akira, Haru: you two get half the chairs from the closet in the bedroom. Futaba and I will get the other ones from the hall closet.”

“Hell yeah,” Futaba cheered.

“Makoto and Ann, I need you two on drink and snack duty. We’re counting on you.”

“Alright,” Makoto agreed, something in her voice a little uncomfortable, like she hadn’t been expecting to walk into this scene tonight.

“And Yusuke and I will get the hatch open.”

“The hatch?” I asked.

“Yeah, the hatch. They don’t let just anyone onto the roof, it’s restricted. But-” he fumbled with his keys in his pocket, pulling them out and showing me a small silver one. “We have connections.”

“To the janitor,” Futaba snorted.

“He’s a nice guy.”

We split up to fulfill our duties. I could walk fine, but I wasn’t careful I could feel the building sway in the wind. Haru and I journeyed to the bedroom, where we were met with little rolling hills of dirty laundry piled in corners and an unmade bed that looked cool and comfortable. The lights were off, and I didn’t care to find the switch.

I looked around for a closet, but only saw the harsh fluorescent light of the ajar bathroom door. “We need to find the chairs,” I thought aloud.

“Maybe there’s a closet in the bathroom?” she suggested.

We crossed the threshold from carpet to tile as we entered, cheap ugly lights humming angrily at us like a hornet’s nest. The mirror and sink were immediately in front of the door, creating an almost eerie scene as I watched the two of us emerge from the soft black into the harsh light. I caught myself staring at my own image, just drunk enough that I could see myself as another man entirely if I tried to. He looked tired, like somebody I’d have seen on the train in my youth and not given a second thought. I noticed that she must have had the same inclination, tousling the back of her hair self-consciously, her eyes darting up and down her own body.

“I wonder how Ann stayed so beautiful,” she wondered aloud.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t look good in these lights,” I assured her.

“Hm,” she thought to herself, “maybe not.” Then she sort of stumbled without moving, catching herself on my arm. “We’re a little drunk.”

I laughed. “I think so, too.”

“Is this okay? Is what we’re doing alright?”

“I don’t see why not,” I answered.

To the left was a little closet door, one of those kinds that was barely half the width of a normal one. I opened it up and was met with countless shelves filled with hundreds of skincare products and makeup brushes. Towards the bottom there was a little area free of shelves, where three foldable chairs rested in a cobweb force field.

My wife recoiled a bit. “Oh… we need to help them out with this place.”

“I think they embrace the chaos.”

“I don’t. I could hardly handle your room at LeBlanc.”

I reached in and brushed aside some cobwebs, fumbling and nearly losing my balance as I pulled the seats out of their nook. She stabilized me, dainty hands on my back.

Two of them were red, printed by some third party company with the Shujin academy logo in black on their back supports, and the third was a dark and old green. I imagined it might have been passed down to them by some family member, now dead and gone.

“Do you think we should clean the spiderwebs and grime off?” Haru asked tentatively. “I wouldn’t want to sit on that.”

It looked like the red chairs were mostly clean, but the older looking green one _was_ covered in quite a bit of grime.

I turned on the sink. After a brief delay, it sputtered to life, hissing white noise as it released a pillar of water. I picked up the green chair and ran it under the faucet, making sure to rotate it and soak it from every angle, only after a couple moments realizing how idiotic I was being.

Haru started laughing quietly, holding her hand over her mouth. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I figured I’d clean it,” I said.

Her voice cracked with amusement. “But how is that going to clean anything? You’re just getting it wet.”

I thought about it. I wasn’t sure. At least the cobwebs were gone.

“Hm,” I observed, removing the now dripping chair from the vanity. “I guess I’m a little further gone than I thought.”

She continued to laugh as I picked up the rest of the chairs and carried them out, the green one leaving a damp stain on my shirt. I hadn’t heard her laugh that honestly in a very long time. I felt like if I’d been sober, I’d have something to say about the way it sounded. But for now I was just happy and drunk and stupid, and so was she.

 

* * *

 

When we emerged from the dark and soft atmosphere of the bedroom, everyone was loitering around by the apartment door, talking amongst themselves. A stack of similar-looking folding chairs rested against the wall, ready to be taken. Makoto held a couple bags of snacks, doing something on her phone. Ann carried a bottle of liquor in each hand.

Ryuji saw us enter. “Everyone ready?”

“Yes, we are.” Haru answered. “Akira put one of your chairs in the sink.”

Ryuji shot me a confused glance. “What, man?”

“Let’s just go,” I replied.


	3. Chapter III

_Chapter III_

 

“Come on,” Futaba coaxed from the top of the narrow and corroded ladder. “Not much further.”

I watched attentively as Haru made her way up each thick rung, slowly and carefully, each step double and triple-checked. The ladder should’ve been condemned- it looked like something you’d find in an ancient tomb.

“This was a stupid idea,” Ann muttered next to me.

She, Makoto, Yusuke and I stood at the top of the concrete stairwell, anxiously watching as my tipsy spouse climbed just high enough to reach Futaba’s outstretched hand.

“I gotcha,” Futaba grunted as she pulled her up and over the access hatch.

“Thank you,” Haru breathed in relief.

Ryuji had already taken up half the chairs, so it was my job to get the rest. I forgot where I’d put them for a second, but found them moments later only an arm’s length away, leaning up against the concrete wall, black as night.

“I’ll take these up,” I announced.

“Be careful,” Ann told me, her eyes like dull sapphires in the darkness.

Yusuke grabbed one of the chairs. “Do you need any assistance?”

“Just hand them to me when I get halfway up.”

He nodded.

Makoto observed us soberly as we got into position, like a critic watching a dumb movie.

I climbed five rungs of the ladder and turned around to grab the first chair, hoisting it up over my head unevenly and depositing it in Ryuji’s receptive hands. We did this two more times until all the chairs were past the ladder- on the third I wobbled precariously, prompting a gasp from those below, but managed to keep myself secure.

“Alright,” Ryuji announced, unseen. His voice bounced off the concrete like the walls of a cavern. “We’re all set.”

I pulled myself up with another effort, and emerged dizzily from the tiny hatch onto the sprawling flatland of gravelly concrete that was the roof. The first thing that struck me was it’s sheer size- something about the layout of the complex had allowed for a conjoined rooftop across all the individual buildings, creating the illusion of an endless flatland that seemed to exist in a void of only stars and distant light pollution. Haru, Futaba and Ryuji all stood just a few feet away from me, but they looked like miniature models against the colossal black night, tiny imperfections on an endless plane of celestial aether.

Haru took my arm in hers.

“It’s beautiful up here,” I whispered.

“It is.”

Futaba gave us a perplexed look. “It’s a rooftop.”

We helped the rest up and started our silent trek across the barren cement wastes towards the edge of the world. I carried one folded chair. The roof flipped upside-down in my head but I kept moving, focusing on the backs of their pale necks in the starlight. If they hadn’t been there with me, I would've just kept walking right onto the spinning atoms that made up the air.

How did I manage to get this drunk so fast?

“This looks like a good spot,” Yusuke observed.

We’d reached the edge, but I felt a little pang of disappointment when I saw that the roof didn’t simply bleed into the night without division but that a short brick buffer separated us from it.

I sat down the dripping wet chair, folding it out as a breeze, warm as beach water, flowed through my hair. Ryuji handed me another seat and I set it up, too.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be up here?” Makoto asked.

I didn’t really listen to whoever answered her. It didn’t feel right to listen to the answer to such a question. “Allowed” was very far away from here.

We all took a seat and some of them breathed sighs of relief, glad to be seated, glad to have that ordeal over and done with, glad to have the sky over their heads.

Haru spoke in an almost hushed tone. I understood why- it didn’t feel right to do anything but whisper on such a silent night. “Makoto,” she said. “We interrupted you with this whole endeavor.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s not really even worth mentioning, it’s just a tough week, and I was going to vent.” She sighed. “But I’ll spare you all the details.”

Ryuji shook his hand dismissively. “Let’s hear it.” He passed around a beer to everyone. It didn’t feel like it weighed anything in my hands.

Makoto looked around at all of our gazes fixed attentively on her.

“Alright,” she conceded. “I think I was talking about the plane ride in.” She took a breath and looked up at the sky. “It was long, and uncomfortable, as most plane rides tend to be. And the moment I got to the airport, we hit traffic. I’d planned on taking a nap before heading this way, but I hardly had time to put my things down at Sae’s place before I needed to leave to come here.” She caught herself. “Not that I don’t appreciate seeing you all- there’s no people I’d rather see in my first moments being back in Japan.”

“You’re just worn out,” Ann empathized.

“I am,” she agreed. “But I’ll be alright. I’ve been pushing onward so far, there’s no way a lack of sleep is going to break me now.”

“Makoto-chan,” Haru asked. “I know you’re living abroad, and I know you’re working at a school, but I don’t know much else beyond that. How has it been, being over there?”

She almost laughed. “Right- I nearly forgot how long it’d been. I’m sorry, everyone. There’s too much in my head lately. I can’t keep my relationships straight.”

I took a long, slow sip of my drink. The inside of my head felt silky. Haru took a few sips from the same bottle. I think I tasted her lips on it, faintly, like a suggestion rather than a sensation.

“It’s okay,” Futaba declared. “It’s been a while for most of us.”

Makoto continued her explanation, uninhibited by wandering thoughts. “I’m a professor of law, Haru. At Stanford, in California.”

“That’s incredible,” she replied.

California was almost on the other side of the world. The sky couldn’t be blue somewhere else, I thought. I couldn’t fathom that somewhere over the cusp of the horizon California was awake in daylight, no- the world must’ve been all black.

“It’s very hard work,” Makoto said simply, no stars in her eyes. “And I just hope I get the promotion I’ve been vying for soon. I can’t help but feel as if I’m being pressured to stay at my current level because nobody wants me any higher up, like I’m a threat, or a disease.”

That seemed to catch Futaba’s attention. “A disease…?”

“I don’t know. My english is fine. But I’m still not- like them.”

Ann put a hand on her shoulder. “I know what you mean. It’s not easy standing out. You think it’s going to help, but it rarely does.”

“Yeah,” she replied, looking out over the hills. “I moved over there in order to gain access to opportunities I wouldn’t have had otherwise- but nothing’s going to come of that if the work stays this difficult.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“It’s not about _can_ , not really. I _can_ do it. But what I’m not sure about is how much time you should spend at home to justify having a nice home, you know? Because I’m never there. My brain is all law, all the time, every second of every day. I’m sure I’m making a positive impact on a lot of students. But it’s like I’ve given myself away in order to do that. I don’t know where I fit into my own life right now.”

A silence settled over the rooftop. Finished talking, Makoto looked out over the bricks and towards Tokyo in the distance, seemingly fixated on the pillars of pale light that shone from the city. Haru looked at her with a delicate gaze, eyes darting slowly back and forth like little hazel tulips in a torrential wind.

“You should leave,” Yusuke said.

“It’s not like that. It’s not so bad. I’m just tired, is all.”

“I feel the same way about my manga work,” he explained. “I had to get something to secure my living situation while I pursued what I actually wanted to do.”

“It doesn’t really apply, Yusuke. But I do appreciate the input.”

“Is that going well?” I asked him.

He laughed sensibly. “As well it can be, I’m afraid. I’ve come to realize that the world doesn’t care much for art, and I’m forced to accept that.”  
“Is that really true?” Haru asked.

“I like art,” Ann added.

Yusuke nodded with understanding and looked at each of us as he spoke. “Of course- _people_ enjoy art. It’s made for people. Looking at a painting gives you insight and a unique experience- it’s the feeling you reference, Ann, that inspired me to pursue art in the first place, as I’m sure you all know.”

He readjusted himself in his seat. A silent wind blew down from the stratosphere and split his perfectly styled hair into frays.

“But the world doesn’t care much for art. No matter the high I get from creating something meaningful and pure, it’s tough to pay a mortgage with meaning. And so it’s as if I’ve become frazzled out in different directions, one day drawing manga backgrounds and the next attempting to capture the essence of the human soul. I’m sure you can understand the disconnect I’m experiencing here.”

“It sounds confusing,” Haru lamented. “For both of you.”

“It certainly is,” Yusuke agreed. “And I’m not wealthy, but I’m managing. It’s a lot harder these days to remind myself of why I started doing this in the first place- that spark is much more elusive than it was in my youth. But it’s there. I’m actually renting a hotel room right now for an exhibition in Tokyo later this week. You all should come if you have the time.”

“Definitely,” Ann replied. “Just let me know.”

“We’ll try our best,” I said. “Depends on the cafe.”

“Of course.”

Futaba took a swig of something from a black shining bottle.

“Akira,” she asked me. “Do you know what I’m doing right now? Career wise? Did we ever talk about it?”

I thought for a moment. Last I knew, she’d been working at an internet security firm. I remember she'd been excited to tell me about “the breaking news that never was” when she managed to diffuse a hacking attempt on some major company- a bank or some sort of store chain, I couldn't remember.

“Cybersecurity?” I wondered aloud.

She took her head. “First of all,” she lamented. “I hate the word ‘cyber’. Say anything else, just don't say that. It makes you sound like you're fifty. And second of all- no. Haven’t been doing that since two summers ago.”

“I guess we haven’t talked about it, then.”

She looked ahead contemplatively for a moment. She wore a white tee and black sweatpants- comfortable clothing, the kind she’d always preferred. Memories flooded my brain, uninhibited in my buzzed state, the TV snow in my mind forming vague images of a scared girl, holding her hands over her ears, asking me when we could go back home- It was like Futaba had buried that girl entirely.

“I love computers,” she said. “I do. And you all know I do. I mean- I would’ve never met any of you if it wasn’t for that love. You know, the only thing I’ve ever been good at yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m sure you all know the deal.”

She took another drink.

“So-” she continued. “That’s what I did. Worked IT, or ‘cyber’security, or this or that, since I got out of high school. You know that much already. The goals changed- ‘I just wanna help people learn computers’ to ‘I just wanna protect people’ or ‘I just love the rush of a good exploit’, but really and truly, I didn’t actually give a shit about any of those things. Not a one. ”

“You had no passion for it?” Haru asked.

“I thought I did. I did a great job of tricking myself into thinking I did. But about two years ago or so, I had a breakdown at work.”

She took a quick breath, as if she were preparing to dive into an underwater cave. Her hair looked almost black in the inky night.

“I was working on some exploit or something. And I remember-” she squinted her eyes a little, recalling the exact image in her mind. “The keystrokes I was making started to feel different- like I was typing on tiny pinprick shards of glass. And I couldn’t figure out why that was. But as I kept typing, that feeling traveled up my fingers and into my throat. I almost couldn’t breathe. And all of a sudden, it was like I was a little girl again, in the middle of the office, in an instant, all the eyes on me, cutting into me like they used to. I almost started to scream. And so I went home, trying my best to hide my tears, and I shut myself in my room for a goddamn week. Never went back.”

“Christ,” Ryuji muttered.

Haru, uninhibited, touched her shoulder. “Futaba, are you okay?”

“I’m alright now. I wasn’t then. I realized- the same motions I had been making every day with my hands, the motions I had to make for my _career_ , were the same motions I’d relied on when I was that terrified little girl as the only link I had to other people, or to any interaction at all. The girl who couldn’t even go outside her room, the girl who still saw the window as some portal to hell. And something about typing that day brought back all those feelings, like it was some link between the _me_ of now and the _me_ of back then.”

Somewhere in the far off black, a car horn honked and then fell silent.

“So it all came crashing down on me at once,” Futaba continued. “That I only developed this love for computers because they were the only things I had to link me to anything as a kid. They were the only tethers I had to even keep living. And so working with them was like… well, it was like a soldier coming home from a war to work at a shooting range. It made no sense.”

She poured herself another glass.

“So,” she began again. “I quit. And for however many weeks, I just sat in my room and I thought. And eventually, it dawned on me. I couldn’t do computers anymore. It wasn’t right. I was using a skill I’d acquired as a side effect of some horrific time in my life and trying to warp that and twist that into something positive. It wasn’t going to work. They’re fundamentally different.”

She puzzled together her next thoughts in her mind, as if she’d never said any of this out loud before.

“I thought- okay. What can I do to change this into something positive? And I realized- _I’d_ made progress. All of you helped me get out of that place, and if you’d never existed, I’d probably be dead ten years ago. And if there’s no Phantom Thieves anymore, I have to try and fill that lack. I could be that hand, reaching down into the black, pulling someone up. Because I’ve been there, you know?”

We nodded solemnly.

“I couldn’t start being a therapist. You need schooling for that, and I wasn’t gonna go back. I was done with school. But I knew what I could do.”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“I went to some church. You know, the kind that isn’t going to ask for a license. The kind that doesn’t really care, the kind that wants you to push their agenda to distressed kids and that’s about it. I went there and one bullshit resume and confession of faith later, I was working as a counselor.”

“I think it suits you,” Haru commented.

“I think it does too,” she agreed, pausing for a moment. “I’ve seen some shit, now, though. A lot of kids go through a lot worse than I ever did, and deal with it so much better. I mean… things I can’t even repeat. Things beyond what we could’ve even fathomed back when we were the Thieves.”

I could see her mull over her next words slowly, checking to see if she really meant them.

“Whatever we did in Mementos as kids,” she muttered. “Didn’t fix whatever makes people fucked up. I mean, deep down.”

She fell silent, taking another long drink.

The night howled like hell. Our gazes held fast to the concrete at our feet as if to tether us to earth.

I wondered if Arsene could see the distant orange lights of Tokyo bleeding into the black sky as I did, or the fire in Ryuji’s gaze, the quiet awareness beyond comfort that arrested Futaba’s disposition, the sober misery I found creeping at the corners of Makoto’s lips- perhaps he could see through the dark, all the way home, to Kunikazu’s bedroom, over interstate roads, connecting my blood to my blood across train routes that ran under my feet, or through the crackling in the air broadcasted from unseen cell towers. Maybe he only saw the way the summer breeze fanned Haru’s eyelashes as her gaze reflected the stars in little hazel pools, the dark burgundy of her sundress like another facet of the night, a flat plane given form. Maybe he was dead.

Ryuji poured another round of shots, the little glasses all lined up at his feet like toy soldiers. Futaba grabbed one of the chip bags Makoto had brought up, and tore it open with a loud crinkling that echoed through the night. She munched as the rest of us talked and shared little details about their lives, or discussed movies or books, or something or other.

Before I knew it I was holding another full shot of whiskey, and Ryuji and Futaba were toasting to something. The words felt far away, like they didn’t mean much up here, like they were linked to the ground.

I let the silk run down my throat and felt the world melt into a million little pinpoints that swam around me. Haru leaned against my shoulder and we watched in silent subdued wonder as the kids we once knew grew into men and women and pulled apart only to come back together again, blooming into flowers together in shitty apartments or finding themselves in a new career, reborn with purpose, or struggling to keep their heads above water over some unseen ocean, or like their eyes hid some forbidden truth like they were holding up the whole world on their shoulders, a truth that maybe I knew, too.

I looked inward and the roof seemed to swallow the sky when I realized I wasn’t sure where I stood, that I couldn’t seem to imagine how my life might look if I could memorialize it in a single image. Little paint strokes came to mind, but I couldn’t find the picture. Maybe I just didn’t want to.

The night went on endlessly, it seemed. Eventually I got so drunk I couldn’t even think about anything anymore. Everyone was laughing and yelling and discussing with such passion things I couldn’t really understand. I liked watching them, but I wanted to be alone. Ann was passed out in her chair.

I got up and slurred a goodnight to everyone. I helped Haru up from her seat with an outstretched hand. She was so light. We left behind a chorus of singing goodnights as we made our way back into the black plane of nothing that suspended us. Fireflies lit up in pulses around me.

“That’s…” was all that Haru said. Then she just looked and watched with me, tracing the little spirals they did as if they were embers from a fire.

I went down the ladder first. It was surprisingly easy. It’s just one foot in front of the other, kind of like days of the week. Each day was it’s own little story, where sometimes I didn’t have time to contemplate what it was exactly I was doing, or why. Or what it meant or didn’t mean. But for now I would go onto the next rung. And then those thoughts were gone.

Haru followed me down, her movements competent and graceful. One of her little sandals fell off on her descent. I picked it up and gave it to her when she reached safety. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. She held onto my arm like she wanted to sleep standing up.

 

* * *

 

We opened the door to Ryuji’s apartment to see the full moon hanging low over the world, filling the open sliding glass doors with it’s celestial white mass, shining silver over everything like a silent sulphur fire. She sat down on the couch and watched me with the moon in her eyes as I followed suit, then she leaned in and rested her head on my chest as we both let the moonlight bathe us.

“What a strange night,” she whispered.

“It is strange,” I said.

Her breathing settled into a calm rhythm and she lay down next to me on the couch, our noses touching. I took my fingers and brushed her hair behind her ear, and she studied my face with a quiet gaze, her breath and my breath like the push and pull of the tides. Her eyes closed and then slowly, she kissed me with her lilac lips. Warm movement washed over me as I held her, like the moonlight had dissolved us both into quantum particles and we were melting together into one form, like I was kissing her the way I’d kissed her fifteen years ago. We kissed for a long time, neither of us speaking another word, holding onto each other like we knew the huge moon would soon collide with the earth.

Then, one by one, every other sensation slowly and silently faded away, until the warmth of her lips was all that remained. Eventually, it too, relented to the moving darkness.

 

* * *

  

Arsene stood before me in a room of nothing at all, his top hat shining a silver glimmer, his crooked red smile of long, jagged teeth and his piercing crimson eyes the only sources of light I could see. He stood with his hands clasped together at his waist, his long claws interlocking together like the blades of a woodchipper, his horns long and reaching towards me. He was still as a monolith.

_You are a coward_ , he said without speaking. _You’ve forgotten everything._

“I haven’t,” I said.

_You are afraid of change,_ he spat back, his voice like the hellscream of the devil. _You are complacent, and small, and you have no perspective._

I screamed back, suddenly angry. “What am I doing wrong, then? I’ve made a life!”

_You saw the signs, I know you did. You cannnot lie to me._

“You’re just as useless! You’ve stayed silent all this time!”

_I trusted that you’d be competent. I was wrong. You watched and did nothing as you let the spirit of rebellion slip through your fingers, as if your task was done. Like a fool._

“My task?”

**_SILENCE._ **

I went to speak, but found I couldn’t open my mouth. Panicked, I felt for it, and felt only smooth skin where my lips would’ve been.

_There is no justification for the way in which you’ve allowed yourselves to fall into complacent mediocrity, the way in which you’ve squandered your gifts in lieu of creature comforts and childish dreams half-realized. You were to become a seed from which human liberation would spring forth, and instead, you and The Empress forged your very own chains._

Arsene laughed, his cackling like thunder. The room started to collapse, the rubble showering down on me. I felt every bone in my body crushed to dust under the weight of all of Tokyo.


	4. Chapter IV

_Chapter IV_

 

A sledgehammer of pure sunlight shattered my skull and I woke up. The air smelled of pollen and gasoline as I forced my eyes open, the morning sun a white hot strobe light bouncing off the walls, flashing faster and faster until I was sure it would burst and rain glass into my eyes. I shielded myself from it with my hands, sitting up on the leather couch, my hair an oily mess and my clothes feeling a size too big. My mouth was dry and nearly swollen. A poisonous aftertaste welled in my throat. Arsene’s face was burned into my brain.

Haru groaned next to me, disturbed by my movement and unwilling to accept that the morning had arrived. She pulled a hand up to her face, nuzzled in the leather, and rubbed her eyes with her palm.

I looked around the room, squinting as the radiation burrowed through my eyes and into my brain. Ryuji was passed out on the carpeted floor a couple feet away, with only a decorative pillow to separate his head from the floor, and Ann slumbered peacefully in the recliner on the far wall, wrapped in a comforter and an array of sheets. I saw no one else.

I got up slowly. My muscles felt like they’d torn in my sleep. I made my way towards the bathroom, each of my footsteps on the carpet sending little pinpricks up my nerves. When I crossed into the darkness of the bedroom, the pulsing pressure in my brain relented somewhat.

Futaba slept sprawled out on the bed, looking completely at ease and comfortable. On the carpet Yusuke lay on a makeshift mattress of sofa cushions and sheets. His head was buried in the pillow, like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of cowering in fear.

I let my feet fall quietly on the carpet, making slow progress towards the bathroom door. I carefully closed it behind me, keeping the lights off.

In the faint golden sunlight that entered through the closed window curtains I could see that I looked like shit. I needed a shave and a shower. Looking at myself gave me a bit of a headache, so I stopped and ran the tap, cupping the cool metallic water in my hands and splashing it onto my face. It did little to clear the fog. Maybe something. I couldn’t be sure. I used the restroom and left, creeping my way past the two sleeping creatures in the dark.

I lightly touched Haru’s arm. “Hey,” I said quietly. “I think it would be good for us to head back.”

She groaned, shifting away from me. “I know. I’m ignoring it.”

“We can’t ignore it forever, though. They’ll be waiting.”

She turned away from me without a word, eyes still wired shut.

I went to the kitchen and filled up a glass of water.

“Here,” I offered her. “Drink something. You’ll feel better.”

Reluctantly, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and brushing her wavy hair out of her face. She took the glass from me and took a few long sips.

“I feel awful,” she muttered.

“So do I.”

She offered me the cup, and I took a sizable gulp. Like the water in the bathroom, it didn’t do much to help. I’d need darkness for that, and it would be a long day ahead of me before I’d get to have any kind of darkness.

She put a hand to her temple. “My head’s pounding.”

“I’ll drive home,” I offered. “Don’t worry about it.”

She looked down at the floor for a minute, her eyes half shut. “Okay, that would be nice.”

I sat down next to her and pressed my fingers into my throbbing forehead. We sat for a while like that, neither of us wanting to be the first to make the move towards the door. Eventually I figured I should probably do it, so I got up to tell Ryuji goodbye.

“Ryuji,” I said quietly, shaking his shoulder.

He didn’t move an inch. For a moment he looked like he could be dead, until I saw his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I figured I’d text him later on and let him know we’d left early. I didn’t plan on waking anyone else up. Nobody deserved that.

“Okay,” I said. “We should probably go.”

Reluctantly, Haru stood. Her feet didn’t seem firmly placed on the ground, and her knees wobbled a bit.

“I feel so weak,” she said, the sleep still not gone from her voice.

“It’ll be better once you drink a bit more,” I assured her, completely unsure if I was right or not. It’d been too long since I’d been this hungover.

We gave the disheveled apartment one last look as we left- the faint imprints we’d left on the leather couch, the open cupboards in the kitchen, Ryuji and Ann completely gone to the world, illuminated in the dusty sunlight, surrounded by socks and empty beer cans, something about the deepness of their sleep suggesting they were exactly where they wanted to be.

I opened the door quietly and my miserable wife followed me out into the hallway, the lights here somehow brighter than the sun. I closed the door with equal care and just like that, we were gone.

 

* * *

  

“Pull over,” Haru said suddenly, with urgency. “Please. I’m going to be sick.”

She’d been staring out the window idly for about a half hour now, her legs tucked up to her chest, her forehead pressed up against the glass, hardly speaking- distracting herself from the sickness in her stomach with the passing of scenery as I drove.

Driving had been going well enough. I had the sun visor down, but looking directly at the blue sky still felt like I was putting my teeth to a jackhammer. I’d been driving carefully and slowly, triple checking every turn, worried that I might miss something with my mind so far in the back of my skull, huddled away from the light- but now I slowed the car to a crawl and put it in park on the side of some country interstate road. An ocean of prickly green grass bristled in the heat on either side of us. There was nothing else here.

Haru fumbled with the door handle and went straight to her knees on the gravel that marked the edge of the pavement.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I swung open my door and jogged around the car to kneel by her side. It was a stupid question. Her hair was matted in tufts, hanging in front of her face. She panted between spells of vomit. I reached down gently and held her hair back for her.

“Hey, hey, hey…” I cooed quietly. “You’re alright.”

Another wave of nausea rushed over her and she threw up again, this time stabilizing herself with her hands on the grass. It was that all-encompassing sort of vomiting, the kind that made her wrists shake.

I rubbed her upper back delicately with my free hand, and waited for the convulsions to end, all the while assuring her “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

A gigantic semi truck barrelled past us on the road, roaring and screaming like a great metal beast, shining silver in the sun. In it’s wake it left an afterquake of noise and the overwhelming scent of diesel.

She sat up very slowly, her eyes watery, her nose running, and her mouth wet. The strong smell of vomit mixed with gasoline and hot asphalt in the muggy air.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice cracking and sore. “That’s disgusting.”

“Don’t apologize,” I told her.

“I’ve never felt this bad in my life.”

“Let’s get you home.”

She nodded sadly and I helped her up. She climbed back into the passenger seat as I rummaged around the back for some paper towels. I found some napkins from a take-out restaurant under the driver’s side seat, but nothing else. I suppose that’s what happens when you keep such a tidy space- you never have anything you don’t put there.

I handed her the napkins and she thanked me and wiped her nose, mouth and eyes. Then she took a deep breath and steadied herself, like she was determined not to break again.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m ready.”

For just a moment I looked out at the flat plane before us. It was like an inverse of the roof last night- all green except for a thin black line down the middle, all bathed in sunlight and blue with not a single star in sight. The sky changes a lot more in a few hours than I probably had in my whole life.

I started the engine and I pulled off from the side of the road slowly and smoothly, trying my best to drive the way Haru did.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. It felt right- neither of us were in the mood to talk anyway. She seemed restless, like she couldn’t decide whether she’d be more comfortable looking out the window or pressing her palms to her temple and staring at her feet. She kept alternating between the two until she eventually gave up, opting to rest her head between the door and headrest, staring blankly ahead and a little to the left. A few times she sounded like she was on the verge of getting sick again, but she held herself together and we forged onward, barrelling towards Tokyo.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later we arrived at home. The lip of the garage gave us one final dizzying lurch as I drove over it, like the road had to get the last word in. I closed the garage door with the clicker that was clipped to the sun visor, and the in the rearview mirror I watched as it slowly drew itself over the sunlight until darkness settled over the car.

I opened the door and let the scent of hot engine and hot concrete into my lungs, a smell that I’d always found somewhat pleasant, but not today.

“You can go right upstairs if you want,” I told her as she carefully stepped down from the passenger side door. “I can talk to them.”

“It’s okay,” she assured me, steadying herself against the roof of the car, her voice still hoarse. “I need to be there for this, anyway.”

We entered the cafe through the back door that was connected to the garage. I checked my phone- it was a crisp nine o’clock in the morning and the air felt sharp, like it would shear off the back of my throat if I breathed too deeply. We made our way past the pantry and utility closet, towards the kitchen. From down the hall I heard a chorus of voices.

“One, two- three!”

Around the corner, in the kitchen, four construction workers were hoisting up the new electric stove, their gloved hands grabbing underneath it, their backs braced powerfully. We stopped and watched silently as they lifted it and carried it over to the nook in the countertop- I didn’t want to startle them in any way or get someone hurt by talking. They set it down with controlled breaths until it landed with a _thud_ on the exposed granite of the flooring.

Toru, the head contractor we’d been working with, stood up with a huff and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. He saw us and gave us a brief nod of acknowledgement.

“Ah, you’re here,” he said bluntly.

“We are,” I said, the sawdust in the air starting to worsen the pressurized pulses in my temple.

“You two okay? You look ill.”

“We’re alright, just let us know what we need to do.”

“Thank you all so much for your help,” Haru added with a bit of effort. “I’ll bring you drinks later, when I’m feeling a bit better.”

“No need to worry yourself, ma’am. There’s a couple things we need to go over,” he said, dusting off his gloves on his pants. “I have the paperwork set up in the seating area.”

We followed Toru out of the kitchen and to one of the booths, where he’d arranged a small stack of documents. I wished the windows were closed, but I followed him diligently.

“Most of this is formality stuff. You know, a recap of what we did, general safety information and disclosure documents. That sort of thing.” He took off his gloves and tossed them onto the table, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He looked to Haru. “Do you mind?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, a little hesitant. “Go right ahead.”

He lit his single cigarette and gave it a small puff. The smoke made me a little bit dizzy. My brain was already having enough trouble with all of this, and I didn’t need a cloud of tobacco added to the list of unpleasantries. Not that I would’ve mentioned it- Haru had her strong ideals about guest etiquette that weren’t going to change any time soon.

Toru took a long drag of his cigarette and sat at the booth, gesturing for us to do the same. We did so, and the change in altitude brought on a quick ripple of vertigo.

“First,” he began. “The gas line.”

He took the top sheet from his little stack and slid it across the table to Haru.

“I realize you two run this place together, but the building is your name, Mrs. Kurusu. So I’ll be needing your signature on all of this.”

She held her palm to her head. “Of course.”

He pointed out some details with a pen as he explained. “This is informing you of all the damage the gas line sustained, and here-” He turned the page. “We’re going over all the various repairs we needed to run on the gas line itself and its surrounding infrastructure.”

She looked over the paper like she was trying her best to focus on the task at hand but unable to commit much thought to it. “Okay.”

“The fire, luckily, didn’t hit the gas line, but getting to it was another story entirely. The old stove melted over the underlying infrastructure and we had to use quite a few power tools to get everything cleared away. We have the quote for the labor on the last page.”

Haru skimmed the document, reading certain sections over and confirming that everything looked right, but it seemed like she trusted Toru’s assessment- she scribbled her signature in the blank. “Thank you all,” she said.

“Thank _you_ , ma’am.” He took that packet and handed her another, taking another big drag of his cigarette. “This one covers the repairs we had to do to the walls and floors. Pretty self explanatory, but these were quite extensive.”

I watched as Haru listened, doing her best to put her nausea behind her and give the contractor her full attention. She blinked herself back into focus several times per minute, and gave polite smiles each time he explained something to her. Despite how she must’ve been feeling, she was doing a fantastic job of masking her discomfort- all in the name of accommodating some man she didn’t know under circumstances she’d never asked for. I suppose that’s just how the best people are.

Things went on like this for at least another few hours, and I could tell near the end of it her facade was starting to crack. I got her a glass of water to make myself at least marginally useful, but as the morning turned to lunchtime my joints started to ache, my body wondering what the hell I was doing not giving it the rest it deserved, and I imagined she must’ve been feeling the same.

Once all the paperwork had been squared away, Toru took us to physically inspect the kitchen, in detail. Aside from some sawdust-covered PVC that littered the tile and the scent of electric saws in the air, the kitchen seemed completely restored. Whatever mangled black carcass that had remained after the fire had been unceremoniously disposed of and replaced faster than seemed appropriate- like the dread that had struck us that day was merely a waste of time and feeling. Like it had never happened at all.

“Everything on this far wall is completely new,” he said between drags. “As I’m sure you both can tell. We have to install the new stove, get power up and running, and clean up our mess, but otherwise, you all should be good to open up shop tomorrow morning. We’ll be here through the night.”

Haru’s eyes ran over the room, her face somber. “That’s good news,” she said.

It wasn’t just the hangover. Something felt wrong about this room now- I couldn’t begin to put my finger on what, but the newness of it all just made my stomach churn.

Toru showed us each of the pipes they’d had to replace, he demonstrated that each of the drawers and cabinets he’d installed worked properly, and he explained to us the ways in which his crew had been able to fully repair the structural damage behind the scenes that we couldn’t see. That was the most important part, he said. As he ran his hand proudly over every new surface, my mind wandered to find the rooftop from last night, to feel the wind in my hair and taste my wife’s lips on the bottle- to hear Arsene’s booming voice in my head.

 

* * *

 

When we were finally done with the rundown, it was about three in the afternoon. We thanked Toru and headed upstairs, unspeaking, our breaths a little laboured, my spine feeling thinner with every step I took.

The house was empty. Morgana must’ve gone with Kunikazu to school, something he did every once in awhile. We didn’t exactly love him doing it, but I suppose when you leave him in charge of the house, it’s only natural that he’ll do what he wants. I didn’t care anyway.

We went to the bedroom and turned off the lights, but it was still too bright with the sun beating down on the white curtains. The half-light shone grey in my wife’s eyes.

“Feeling any better?” I asked her.

“Maybe a little,” she said.

We climbed into the cold sheets and let them envelop us slowly in a dizzying and fleeting restless sleep.

 

* * *

  

When I woke to the sound of the door slamming shut, it was dusk. The world was red outside. My head felt better- if I searched long and hard enough I could find the uncomfortable pulsing, but it was hardly there, like a gentle reminder instead of a screaming pressure cooker. The ceiling fan spun lazily, clicking ever so quietly with every full rotation. Haru turned herself over in bed.

“You awake?” I asked quietly.

“I am, yes.”

“How’re you feeling?”

She sat up and looked at me, her eyes still glossy. “Not perfect.” Then, after a moment of thought, she said earnestly: “Thank you, for back in the car.”

“It’s alright, Haru. You don’t have to thank me.”

She closed her eyes and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

Suddenly, Kunikazu swung open the bedroom door, barrelling into the room, Morgana in tow. They leaped onto the bed with a bounce and a creak.

“You’re back!” Kunikazu exclaimed. “You have to see my school project! Was Aunt Futaba there?”

Morgana had his fair share of questions, too. “Did Lady Ann come to her senses? Did she dump that bonehead?”

I scolded both of them. “Calm down. Let us get up and we’ll tell you all about it.”

I sat up and stretched my back. Things felt better, almost like the past week had been a strange dream- I was waking up in the same place I always did, the same bed, the same unchanged home- but the crimson light from the window served as a reminder that all of it had been real, from the fire, to the rooftop drinking, to the hellish drive home.

“I’m hungry,” Kunikazu said.

“Let’s get takeout, then.” Haru suggested. “I want something fatty.”

We got up and went to talk on the couch. After everyone debated their preferences, we ended up ordering some gyudon from a place around the corner. As we waited on the order to arrive, we told Kunikazu and Morgana all about the trip- how ‘Aunt Futaba’ was indeed there and was doing quite well for herself, how Ann and Ryuji seemed quite happy with one another, how we’d enjoyed our opportunity to meet with them all again. We left out the drinking, for obvious reasons.

“When will Futaba come to visit _us_?” Kunikazu asked. It’d been over two years since he’d last seen her, but he never forgot the only adult he’d ever met who could hold a long conversation about video games.

“Hopefully sometime soon,” Haru answered, unsure herself. “We’ll have to see how our schedule is.”

The food arrived and we spent the night savoring the unhealthy meal, watching TV idly, looking at Kunikazu’s tri-fold school project, and sharing the details of our trip. The sun set slowly over the jagged concrete horizon of the city until the room was a deep burgundy.

“When will the cafe be open again?” Morgana asked.

“Tomorrow,” Haru replied.

The room was as red as Arsene’s eyes.


	5. Chapter V

_Chapter V_

 

I lay in bed, Kunikazu tucked in for the night and Morgana with him, maybe asleep, maybe sneaking in some game time, I couldn’t be sure, and either way I didn’t mind. The kid was smart enough to know how to regulate himself.

Haru had been running the shower for a long while now. It’s muffled white noise from beyond the bathroom door started to put me into a sort of a trance, like the hypnotic darkness of the bedroom was whispering a wall of words to me, none of which I could make out.

After another few minutes, the bathroom door cracked open, a brilliant beam of gold slicing through my hallucinations and from a cloud of steam emerged my wife, the grey light of the moon shining in the tears that welled up in her eyes. With a blink, they fell to her white shirt, dotting it with little puddles. She came to me and rested her head on my chest, beginning to cry quietly, her breaths panicked little gasps as her heart broke more and more, the tears now rivulets from her hazel pools.

I gently held her. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but it didn’t feel right. I knew she’d tell me in good time, and somewhere in the back of my mind I already knew, although I couldn’t put it into words.

Her fingers held onto my arms as I felt her tears seep through my shirt and onto my skin, each little gasp between sobs trying to form a word but failing. So I didn’t say a word, just as she couldn’t, and I let her cry, long and hard, into my chest.

After a long time, she started to calm herself. Each breath seemed less urgent, the rivers of her tears turned to raindrops, her back stopped rising and falling with each long sob and she just held herself to me, and for a moment I thought she might’ve fallen asleep, but then she looked up at me slowly, her breathing calm and her eyes wet, and spoke.

“Akira?” she asked. “Do you think that, maybe, sometimes the idea of something is better than the real thing?”

“I think that can be true,” I said, combing my fingers through her hair.

She looked into my eyes for a long while. “Makoto didn’t seem very happy, did she?”

“She seemed stressed out,” I agreed.

“And Yusuke- he said the world didn’t care about his art.”

“He seemed to have reason to believe that.”

She looked down and played with the sheets in her fingers. “I didn’t talk very much last night, and I think it’s because I knew I’d have to put it into reality if I said it. Like… if I’d told them all about how I felt, those feelings would become real, and I couldn’t keep them floating around in my head anymore.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I just held her.

“You didn’t say much either,” she continued. “Is it maybe because you felt that same way?”

I thought about it.

“It might’ve been,” I told her. “But I don’t know.”

She turned the tuft of sheets between each of her dainty fingers, her eyes searching the shadowy hills and valleys of the bedsheets for the right words. “It’s hard to say it in exact terms.” her voice started to shake a bit, but she steadied it. “It feels like I’ve locked myself in a room and lost the key.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t think I realized how deeply I’d buried it until last night. I mean, do you remember what brought us together in the first place? When that crush turned into something more? Everything that happened- with my father, and the company, and all of that?”

“I remember it.”

“ _You_ were what I had to hold onto, but I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same way as I did, and so I had this other place I went to in my head- a place where Dad wasn’t dead, a place where Sugimura didn’t even exist, a place where the world was just calm and regal and serene. A quaint little cafe. With coffee served from homegrown ingredients. Where everyone would be at peace.”

“You were in love with that idea.”

She nodded. “I was. And you, and that idea, got me through it all- you and a quaint little coffee shop were the last things that ran through my mind that day when… well, everything happened. When I was watching my own hands disappear… that’s what I was worried I’d miss.”

The room was hushed as I remembered it, how I’d watched each of them fade into nothing. It reminded me of how I’d felt when that fireman told me how close the fire had been to the gas line, like everything I had in this moment was suspended on a tightrope over a black void.

“When Futaba was explaining all that she went through,” she continued. “I couldn’t help but empathize. That idea of what she was doing being linked to some past trauma was something I’d never considered before. And I think…”

The words caught in her throat.

“I think I hate this.”

I just watched as she searched my eyes for a reaction. I myself wasn’t even sure what to feel. I didn’t care about the cafe, or the house, or any of it. But I did care about her, and our son, and what we’d built together.

She wiped away a stray tear and steeled herself. “Dad ran his business like a prison camp. He leased me out to some pervert like I was a used car. And so when I was a girl, I thought I’d combat all that exploitation and disingenuousness with purity- homegrown coffee beans and heart-filled brews, some intimate place where all of that impurity existed only on the outside.”

“Do you think you didn’t do that?”

“No, I did. For a while, we had just that. Before we moved, back in Shibuya, things were still small enough that it met my expectations. Even then,” she choked on the words. “Even then, though, I knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. Even then, the business of it all and the way I had to be to make it work- I could feel that creeping up on me. But it was all I’d ever really wanted to do, and there was no other dream to cling onto. And you were so supportive… so I carried on.”

“That long ago?” I asked her.

She nodded slowly. “I think so. Not consciously- it wasn’t a fully formed thought, but I can see the shadow of it now.”

“Things aren’t so big here, though.”

“I know,” she replied. “But the seed of all of this was the idea of creating a space of kindness, and understanding and… peace. But for as long as I can remember now, we’ve just been letting people into our home, people who we don’t know and who we don’t care for, who order something they themselves hardly care about and leave. It’s not that I don’t want that serenity for us- it’s that nobody else seems to care about serenity. Or that it doesn’t exist.”

Tears started to fall onto my chest again.

“And so here I am, my ‘dream’ the only thing supporting us as a family. So I can’t give it up, or even find the words to tell you. All you’ve ever been is caring. There’s no reason for me to be this unhappy.”

I reached for her hand, and held it in mine. “It’s not anyone’s fault,” I told her.

“The fire made me happy,” she said. “Isn’t that sick? In one moment, all of that confusion and self-deceit and apathy was burned away. I didn’t have to worry about the _me_ of the past or how I could justify throwing away my own dreams, or ten years of my life- it was just gone.”

She blinked a few times, calming herself.

“But then you were there, and so were the firemen, and it’s like the world couldn’t let me have that release, like it said _‘No, Haru. You’re going to have to get free of this on your own’_ . But I don’t know how, Akira. I just don’t know how to do something like that. Futaba just _did it_. And I’m just not that sort of person.”

She sat up slowly, and moved herself to hold me in her arms, her legs intertwined with mine.

“So did you feel that way?” she asked me. “Did you feel a hint of that last night? Is that why you weren’t so talkative, too?”

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “I think I was having trouble seeing us for what we were.”

“Like their lives were more whole than ours.”

“Some of them seemed that way.”

She breathed slowly, the night settling in around us, all warm and sent from over the pacific ocean.

She spoke groggily now. “I don’t want to lose any of you. I’m sorry. I think I might just be too hungover.”

“You know I’m here to support you,” I told her.

“I don’t want that. I just… want you to know if you felt it, too.”

Tomorrow I would go downstairs in the morning, and walk Kunikazu to school. Then I’d return to the cafe and help in the new kitchen, or seat customers at booths. I’d watch her spend time and energy on each of them, some idea of what our world should be like reflected in her eyes but unreflected in reality, lost in some idealized space far away, unseeable, inescapable, the monster that lashed and lurked beneath the sewers of Tokyo, the beast Futaba had said we’d never slain, the desperate thing called time.

I had something else I wanted to say, but she’d already turned away on her pillow and drifted off to sleep. I closed my own eyes, but no rest came. I stared at the grey ceiling for hours and listened to the car horns outside. I thought it was strange how they never stopped honking, even at night.

 

* * *

 

I turned to watch her sleeping next to me on her tear-stained pillow, restless, eyes shooting back and forth behind her closed eyelids, her mind conflicted even in sleep. She clutched her hands close to her chest.

I remembered so clearly her hat with the feather.

The moment that the Metaverse crumbled, my life had still only just begun. I remembered the day we left Shibuya and the way the wind had roared in my ears as I let myself through the sunroof. In that moment, everything felt so simple. My purpose had been so concrete and so fully realized that I didn’t think for a moment think that eventually, I would have to find another one. I didn’t think for a moment that while the world had been saved, it hadn’t been changed, that my hour of action was over and now I would just have to live, the same way everyone else did. My girlfriend became my wife and my friends became adults and now, like only seconds had gone by, I was lying awake and realizing that I’d lost whatever spirit had earned me that bliss in the first place.

I got out of bed silently and dressed myself in a white tee and joggers, then I left the bedroom, making sure to close the door gently. It was two in the morning. I made my way through the black kitchen, so silent you could hear the car horns still, and descended the creaking stairs, each step careful and deliberate.

Down in the cafe, Toru and a couple other contractors were still working on the kitchen. He looked up, surprised to see me.

“Mr. Kurusu- I wasn’t expecting you’d be awake.”

“Is the work done?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “The power situation turned out to be more complicated than we’d thought. The stove still isn’t hooked up, and the entire cafe is out of power while we try to fix the electrical infrastructure.”

“Perfect,” I told him. “You can all go home.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Go on home. We’ll pay you for everything, but we don’t want this fixed.”

He looked shocked for a moment, but nodded and took out his pack of cigarettes. “Your house, your rules, I suppose. We’ll have the company give you both a call later in the week. I hope we didn’t do anything to offend.”

“Not in the least,” I told him. “It was done faster than we’d anticipated. Maybe a little too fast.”

He clearly didn’t understand what I was on about, but he took a quick drag of his cigarette and waved his crew out the door. “Have a good night, Mr. Kurusu,” he said. They filed out the door, leaving the cafe powerless and kitchenless.

_It was just gone._ I thought. That’s what Haru had said made her feel relief, and I couldn’t deny that in that moment, I felt it too.

I took one last look at the booths and how they reminded me of the ones in LeBlanc. I couldn’t cling to that forever, though. I opened the door and left.

The streets were close to empty, but nothing was ever empty in Tokyo. Businessmen walked up and down the sidewalks like confused robots, their faces tired and all the same. I made my way through the canyon of black to the subway station and descended the stairs, one foot briskly after the other, listening as the roar of the trains below echoed from the cave.

I waited for one of them, my heart bubbling and my feet antsy to move. Eventually, one pulled in and the people around me got up from their benches and looked up from their phones and followed me inside. I found a seat and watched my ghost in the window. I was older now, but I wasn’t too old yet.

I sent a text to Ryuji.

_You awake?_

 

* * *

 

“Where’s the fertilizer?” I asked the bored supermarket attendant. She pointed towards the back of the store without looking up from her phone.

“Far wall,” she said.

The store was bright, garish, and empty. I was alone there, making my way between the aisles of uselessly cheap home decor and cosmetics. I found the back wall without much effort, and heaved two large bags of fertilizer over my shoulder, bringing them over the register. The attendant scanned them without even really looking at what they were. I payed her and left, carrying the bags out onto the street like some traveling merchant out of his mind. Ryuji was waiting in his car on the curb. He opened the trunk for me so that I could put the fertilizer in, next to the planks of wood. I got into the passenger seat and we sped off into the night.

 

* * *

 

The roof of Shujin academy looked haunted now. There was trash and broken glass everywhere. A stack of old and mangled desks in the far corner formed a monstrous silhouette in the darkness. It was even more dilapidated than I’d remembered it- I suppose the school had opted to simply forget that it existed, rather than put forth the effort to restore it to something useful. Oh well. All the better for us.

We turned on the flashlights on our phones and got to work, setting down the planks and fertilizer and clearing away the debris. Glass and metal shards went into a plastic container, the desks were moved into an orderly stack by the door, and the rotting pieces of food kids had thrown up here were thrown back down into the garbage below.

Creeping around in the dead of night brought back memories of my days as a thief. I mentioned this to Ryuji, and the sound of his laughter bounced off the classroom windows into the sky.

 

* * *

 

When we were done, we drove back. It was around six in the morning when we took the exit that would lead us back to the house. Ryuji rolled the windows down, the dark early morning air fresh in my lungs, smelling of hydrangea and cherry blossom.

“You’re going all out with this, aren’t you?” he asked.

“It’s long overdue.”

He puffed out his chest a bit. “I guess _somebody_ was inspired by my perfect relationship.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said.

We pulled up to the house around twenty minutes later. The morning rush was beginning to stir, the road peppered with more and more people with each passing moment. Ryuji pulled up to the curb.

“I’ll wait here,” he said. “Just don’t take too long. Traffic’ll get bad soon.”

I dusted my dirty hands on my joggers and stepped out onto the sidewalk. I unlocked the cafe door and went inside, making sure to lock it back on my way in, and that the ornate window sign still read “closed”.

On my way upstairs, I felt my chest fill with helium and anticipation and nervousness and everything else. The door opened with a sleepy whine. It seemed like everyone was still asleep, which was what I’d been hoping for. In the bedroom, Haru was still slumbering restlessly, clutching the pillow in her arms, her hair a messy cloud of hazel. I put my hand on her small shoulder.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, taking a brief moment to catch her bearings and focus on me. “Oh, good morning.”

“I have something to show you,” I told her, kissing her lips hard. She returned the kiss and came away from it grinning sheepishly.

“Something to show me?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” I told her, taking her hand and coaxing her out of the bed. “You’ll see.”

She got herself dressed quickly, a look of skepticism on her face. “I’m sorry about last night, Akira. It wasn’t a fair way for me to approach all this. I realize I put you in a rough spot.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “And don’t worry. Just get dressed, and bring your hat.”

She ruffled her brow. “My beach hat?” she asked.

I nodded. She glanced at me with suspicion but did as she was told, donning a bright yellow sundress and her broad hat with the pink ribbon on top. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready. I think.”

Next was Kunikazu. I knocked on his door and went in, finding he and Morgana snoring loudly.

“Wake up,” I told them.

Morgana woke with a startled mewl, and Kunikazu covered himself with the bedspread.

“It’s too early!” he protested.

“You don’t have to go to school today if you wake up.”

“Really?” he asked, beaming.

“Just get dressed as fast as you can.”

He threw the covers off his bed and ran to the closet, pulling over a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“You’ll like it,” I said simply.

“What’re you on about, Akira?” Morgana groaned, still sleepy and irritated by his rude awakening.

“Come on, come to the kitchen.”

They followed me out of the room, confused and curious. Haru was rummaging through the pantry.

“Do we have time to get breakfast?” she asked.

“Grab a pastry,” I said.

She took one for each of us from the pantry and asked hesitantly: “Is everything okay?”

I told her not to worry and I held her hand as I led them all down the stairs to the cafe. She still seemed confused. Ryuji honked when he saw us through the window.

“Ryuji!” Kunikazu exclaimed, bolting out of the door and to the car.

“Oh, great,” Morgana bemoaned.

Haru gave me an inquisitive glance. “What about the shop?”

“They couldn’t fix it in time. There’s no power and no stove.”

She cocked her head, eyes searching mine for any clue as to what was going on. “Why would that be?”

“Let’s go,” I said.

We went out onto the sidewalk to find that Ryuji’s parking job on the curb had started to seriously impact traffic. A long line of honking cars was beginning to form behind him. One rolled down a window and from it a man screamed “Move it, jackass!”

“We’d better go,” Haru said, worried.

I opened the back door for Kunikazu and Mona- one of them nearly bursting at the seams with excitement to see Ryuji and the other clearly a little frazzled at finding his long lost love’s boyfriend parked in front of his home at seven in the morning- and they each leaped inside. Haru went in last, holding her hat to her head against a brisk morning breeze and ducking down into the back seat.

Ryuji put a fistbump behind his seat for Kunikazu. “How’re ya doing, kid?”

My son returned the fistbump with a beaming smile. “Pretty awesome!”

“That’s the spirit. Maybe they raised you alright after all.”

He started the engine and pulled off the curb, ending the torrential wall of honking from behind us.

“Where are we going, Ryuji?” Haru asked him. “Akira won’t say.”

He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. “Sorry ma’am. I can’t either.”

We pulled off the surface streets and onto the freeway. I rolled down the windows and let the summer air rush in as we picked up speed to merge and I could smell the blooming world on the wind. The sun shone on the street signs and cars with a polished silver glimmer.

On the drive Kunikazu and Ryuji talked about their favorite animes and Morgana inquisitively probed into ‘how things were going’ with Ann. Haru and I stayed mostly silent, enjoying the breeze and the sun as the rest chatted away. When we took the exit, though, she asked one thing.

“Shibuya?”

I nodded.

We took a couple more streets, and pulled into the parking lot behind Shujin academy.

“Here?” Morgana asked, confused. “Why here, Akira?”

“Are we helping Ryuji with track?” Haru wondered.

I shrugged. “Not a bad guess.”

We got out of the car and headed inside through the back- Ryuji had the keys- and before long we were at the bottom of the tucked away stairwell that gave access to the roof.

“Can we be here?” she asked.

Ryuji waved his hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

We climbed the stairs, Kunikazu’s little footsteps excited and urgent to see whatever was in store for him, Morgana slinking from step to step, and Haru and I completely aligned. She held my hand tenderly.

Ryuji unlocked the rooftop access door and swung it open. “Ta-da!” he exclaimed theatrically.

Haru looked out at the scene and held her hand to her mouth as happy tears welled in her eyes. Fertilizer beds covered the middle of the roof, lined in even rows and cleanly separated with wooden planks, breaking up the weathered concrete plane with a brilliant swath of loamy, rich soil that soaked the sunlight and smelled of earth. On a small, unused desk we’d arranged an array of tools and seeds- gardening forks and hand trowels that shimmered brightly in the sun, packages of seeds for dandelion and kai-lan, and a few sets of gloves and aprons.

She walked out onto the roof, still wordless and shocked. Kunikazu and Morgana both went to examine the setup curiously while she simply stood and looked at it all, the shade from her hat hiding her watery eyes. She stood there for a long while and examined the scene, unmoving, her hands clasped over her mouth, the gentle morning breeze blessing her hair and dress with colorful movement.

“I’ll let you guys enjoy it,” Ryuji said, motioning to head back downstairs. “Just text me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Ryuji.” I said. “Sincerely.”

“Don’t mention it, man.”

I went to Kunikazu and showed him how to use one of the handheld forks to break up the soil. “You mother showed me this,” I said, guiding his hand to gently push and pull the dirt into finely groomed lines. He didn’t really get it, but that was okay. I could tell he was enjoying it.

Morgana examined the scene. “This is a cool thing you did, Akira. I can’t lie.”

As the two of them started messing around with the soil, experimenting with it’s feel and quality, I went back to Haru, still standing wordlessly, her eyes seemingly unable to focus on just one thing, running over every aspect of our modest setup time and time again.

Then, she spread her arms widely and wrapped me in a hug, her embrace warm in the hot sun, her cheek pressed into my chest, her voice cracking with joy.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I love it, so much. You have no idea how much I love it.”

I held her too, and closed my eyes, just embracing her, feeling the pollen in the winds that blew over from the sea and her breathing, real and alive and present, awoken from whatever slumber we’d been stuck in.

She looked at me and kissed me softly, like the tickle of a flower on my lips.

“Thank you,” she said, fighting back tears.

“I needed this, too. We both did.”

She sniffled and smiled. “I love you, Akira.”

I brought her close to me again and felt her breathing and my breathing align, like the push and pull of the tides.

“I love you, too.”

She donned a pair of gloves and her apron, adjusting her big hat to shield her from the sun, and got to work, instructing me on what sorts of plants could grow in what conditions, and which could be close to one another and which couldn’t- how to use the tools I was unfamiliar with and how far to space out the seeds. We were going to be growing carrots in one of the beds and Chrysanthemum in the other.

I felt like I was a kid again, coming up here nearly every day to have an excuse to talk to her, gardening with her diligently, pretending I knew what the hell I was doing when I didn’t. And now, with the cafe miles away, I tilled another row beneath the royal blue sky. She gave me a handful of seeds with her soft hand, bearing the ring I’d given to her so very long ago. Here, under the sun, there was only us. The world below was but a matte painting.

I dug a small hole with my trowel and set a seed inside. There it would stay, in the dark, until it would be ready to sprout- when the heat from the summer would spur a bursting chemical reaction that would send it rocketing upwards, out of the black soil, to bloom in the light as a pinpoint of brilliant color.

Far away, the wind rolled itself through the dead streets of the city and split into deltas to glide across the flatlands, brimming over the world, unconstrained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoyed it. It was really fun to explore the small ways in which our favorite Phantom Thieves might have changed over the years- and I hope and believe they'll find their ways to true happiness and fulfillment in the years that follow. It means a lot to me that you enjoyed the story enough to see it through to the end. Please leave a comment and let me know any and all thoughts you have on the work!


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